To Shatter Illusions
by TappinCastlefan
Summary: We base our relationships on first impressions. But then life gets involved and makes us realize that everything we think we know could be wrong. An A/U take on things. As of 'Flowers for your Grave,' yet Johanna Beckett is alive.
1. The Idea

_Okay, first things first: be warned, this is my first crack at anything AU. So, please keep that in mind. I've had this thought in my head for a while, so here goes nothing._

_Disclaimer: Not mine. How sad. _

_Summary: Kate Beckett and Richard Castle may meet over a murder, the detective wanting little to do with the writer, but there are two mothers in the background urging for more.  
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><p>The air was pleasantly warm for early March in New York City. The sun was out, there was a light breeze, which swept the woman's hair off of her shoulders as she made her way down the block. It was just bright enough for sunglasses, but not so blinding as to force her to keep her head down. She didn't like weather like that. She preferred to keep her eyes on the city around her.<p>

She loved this city with all her heart. As far as Johanna Beckett was concerned, New York was the best city on Earth. There was culture in every possible facet; everywhere you looked there was something to see. No dull rolling plains or pastures, no vast expanses of little suburban houses with picket fence after picket fence lining the sidewalk. In New York she could walk to the subway, and on to work, eat any nationality's cuisine, and soak in all the life around her.

Johanna _needed_ the life. The movement, the hustle and bustle, and vitality that came with being a New Yorker. They both did. She and Kate.

Ten years was a long time, and they just finally really had their feet firmly on the ground.

When _it_ happened, Kate was still in school, just getting ready to leave to start her sophomore year out at Stanford. It had been one of her last nights at home, and they wanted to take her out to dinner, to her favorite pizza place. Johanna had taken that last week off to spend at home with her daughter, packing and shopping and laughing, doing all the things she needed to do before shipping Kate off to California. The pair had waited at the restaurant that night. And waited, and waited for an hour.

As the minutes ticked by they had grown more and more worried. They worried all the way home from the restaurant, not knowing what had happened, until finally, as they rounded the corner of their street, they saw the officers waiting for them on their doorstep.

Gang violence they said. A random wayward event. Not enough evidence to follow up on.

Just like that her husband of twenty years was gone. The father of her daughter. Her best friend. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Just when she had thought she could finally think straight after the funeral and dealing with…everything, Kate told her that she was joining the police academy. The semester was already shot, she argued, so what was the point of going back? It was days of yelling and tears before they reached a compromise. Johanna could deal – would have to deal – with her daughter's decision to become a cop, but only with the condition that she finish college.

Two and a half years after that dark, fateful night, Johanna sat with her parents at Kate's graduation, at NYU, where she transferred upon their agreement. Her beautiful girl had thrown herself back into school to earn her classics degree, doubling it with political science.

Jim Beckett missed his baby girl's graduation, and her rise to becoming one of the youngest female homicides the NYPD has ever seen.

It pained Johanna, even today, to think about how they'd managed ten years without him. Still, she carried on, day by day. She knew Jim would want her to try to be happy.

She kept stride, coming up to Magnolia bakery. Today was a reward, her favorite red velvet cupcakes in celebration of the quarter million dollar settlement she and her firm just settled on with a client. Johanna had firm plans to order half a dozen and share them with her favorite detective.

The second she stepped inside the doors to the shop she was in line. It was always that busy, and the cupcakes were always worth waiting for. The air was sweet with the smell of frosting and sugar, and of course, freshly baked cake. Johanna took a deep breath of it, savoring the peace.

As soon as she could she placed her order, bouncing eagerly on the balls of her toes. She never did that. But something was different about today, she could feel it. Things had really been picking up. Maybe today was a sign that the good luck would stick.

"Oh! I'll have the same order please."

Johanna heard the bold exclamation come from the woman behind her in line. She turned, with a smile on her face, and found herself face to face with Martha Rogers. The woman was standing on a pair of hot pink heels, draped in shimmering layers of a matching color and some sort of animal print. There were gold chains hanging from her neck, with coordinating hoops in her ears. She looked exactly how Johanna would've pictured such a bold personality.

"You're, you're Martha Rogers, right? I love your shows."

"Why, thank you dear!" The older woman sang, holding out her hand for Johanna to shake. "It's always a pleasure to meet someone who recognizes quality theatre."

"Yes, well," she shrugged, "unfortunately I haven't had time to see your newest. Both my daughter and I have been very busy, and we try to go together when we can." She hefted her bag further up onto her shoulder as the line moved. It was exceeding crowded in the bakery this afternoon. Thankfully, she had intentionally left her briefcase at her office, with the firm plan to relax tonight, so she didn't have to worry about it banging around in the throng of people.

Martha nodded down to Johanna's left hand, where it rested on the strap of her purse. "What about your husband? Though, I understand completely, most men have to be dragged to the theatre by their ears."

A strained smile was the best she could do. Here she was, standing in a cupcake bakery in the middle of the city, on her way home from work, as a lawyer, talking to an actress she had seen on stage at least six times. Was this really happening? She felt the walls of her throat shrink in, her voice just barely squeezing past the lump that always came when she talked of Jim. "Actually, my husband is…not with us anymore." And did she really just tell Martha Rogers that?

"Oh, I'm so sorry dear. I'm sorry if I've upset you." Martha had extended her arm again, this time to pat her shoulder in what was a very motherly gesture.

"No," Johanna assured her, "no, it's alright." She laughed, faintly, but it was there. "It's something I guess I'm just used to now. But, I've got my daughter," she smiled and nodded when the cashier handed over a small white box in return for the bills she passed across the counter, "and cupcakes." She held up the box, garnering a returning, understanding smile, from Martha.

Johanna stepped to the side so Martha could pay for her own order. She still couldn't believe she was standing here with Martha Rogers. Not the most famous name on Broadway, but she was certainly known, and known for being quite animated about everything she did. She looked around, trying to figure out how to weave through the mass of people to get to an exit. Any exit. But before she could pry her feet from their place on the floor she was being nudged in the arm.

"Come, Dear," she heard the actress say, "Why don't we sit for a minute, just talk. Tell me, a treat for something?" She held up her own box as they settled at one of the smallest tables Johanna had ever seen, in the corner of the crowded bakery.

"For my daughter and I. Like I said, we've both been rather busy, and considering we've both just closed important cases, it's time for a girls night." She thought of how they would curl up on a couch, in one of their apartments, with cupcakes and coffee. Johanna loved those nights when they'd talk about everything and nothing, and could both put work on hold.

"That sounds lovely. Are you and she close?"

"Very," Johanna smiled, "Ever since she was born. My husband used to say we were one in the same. Oh, but he loved it, though." She looked down, picking at the deep red polish that was flecking off her nails. Maybe Kate would be willing to humor her and join her for a manicure.

"He must have been a wonderful man." The look in Martha's eyes was one of true care, that mothering feeling Johanna missed after her parents moved away from the city, down to a warmer climate.

"He was," she said with a soft, listless smile. "It's been years, but I still expect him to walk through our front door every night. I'm so sorry," she shook her head with a nervous laugh, "I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you. I mean, you're, _you_. You must have somewhere to be."

"Nonsense!" With a dramatic flourish Martha brushed off her comment. "Sometimes you just need to talk, even to a complete stranger. And you're not taking up any of my time, so don't even worry. I was just dropping by to pick these up for my granddaughter, and my son. Similar situation, you could say. Busy with school, busy with writing," she moved her hands back and forth as if the pair in question was seated by her sides before waving to herself, "busy with a tour. It's time for a break."

"I wish I could do this for her more often. She doesn't really like to let me. My daughter is a very stubborn woman, Ms. Rogers."

"Please, call me Martha. And I know the feeling. My son is exactly the same way. Though I can't say I blame him. It's taken him a long time to get where he is. He's worked…very hard."

"Yes!" Johanna remarked, "I remember now, Richard Castle is your son, right? The novelist?"

"The one and only."

"I love his books. So does Kate, actually. I think they're part of why she was so confident, dead set, on being a detective. Let alone homicide."

"A homicide detective! Well, now that's quite an achievement for a young woman."

Johanna grinned with pride for her girl, "Yes, it is. She was the youngest to get there, too. I'm not sure anyone's ever worked harder than Katie did when she was a uniform. Boy, did she prove herself."

"It's lovely, isn't it? That feeling that no one in the world is as wonderful as your child? I'm not blind, I know that Richard didn't exactly have the ideal childhood, but he's made quite the name for himself."

"I'd say so. And you said you have a granddaughter? That must be wonderful."

"Oh it is. Alexis is…incredible. Everything I could ever imagine for Richard. I don't know what the hell Richard, or I, ever did to deserve her, but she's perfect." There was a look of genuine bliss on Martha's face as she spoke of her granddaughter. Johanna sat, fiddling with the thin gold bracelet that dangled with her wrist, and listened as Martha recounted tales of Alexis's younger days, running around playing with her son, the father.

She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever get such memories for herself. Things changed after her husband died, and Kate now had a hard time trusting men.

"It never ceases to amaze me how wonderfully Richard pulled off being a single father."

Johanna's head snapped up, her eyebrows pinched in confusion.

"Let me save you the trouble of figuring out if it's too rude to ask, Dear. Alexis's mother basically walked out on them after two years, and took off with her director. It tore Richard apart, having to watch her leave, and not knowing what to do with this little girl, but he pulled himself back together for Alexis. It was rough for a while, but he made it work." She sighed, a reflective sigh, weighted with the memory of what must have been a miserable and frustrating time, Johanna thought. Martha paused for a moment, just a few bare minutes, looking out the front window at the people of the city hurrying by. "I take it you don't have any grandchildren, then?"

"Oh, no." Johanna shook her head with a laugh, "Kate's a long way away from that. She hasn't even really been in a serious enough relationship in a while. I'm not even entirely sure she wants it right now. But," she cracked a somewhat sad, yet understanding of her daughter's opinions, smile, "sometimes I think she does, and I'm afraid she's lonely. All she does is work."

"You know what?" Martha leaned over the table, a sly look in her eyes. "I bet my son and your daughter would get along fabulously. They're both clearly very dedicated to their work, which coincidentally somewhat overlap with one another, what, with Richard writing homicides and your daughter solving them? Surely they'd find something to talk about. And they're both single," she practically sang, "So there wouldn't be any sort of conflict of interest, now would there?"

"You know, I like the way you think. Katie could use that. Someone to talk to." The two women spoke with a tone that implied much more than just getting their children together to talk, but if they didn't outright mention their conspiracy, they could truthfully deny it when the claims came later – which, they surely would. Neither of them had stupid children, they knew that. "How about this? I'll mention it to Katie later tonight, and you mention it to your son, and we'll see what comes of it?"

Martha pursed her lips in thought, eventually nodding her head to the plan. She reached into her rather large, metallic handbag and pulled out a thin leather case. "Here's my card," she slipped one out of the case and slid it across the table towards Johanna, "why don't you give me a call and let me know how things go in a few days? You understand, to give them a bit of time to, get used to the idea of each other? I have a feeling this will be no easy arrangement."

"Oh, I agree," Johanna exclaimed, slipping the card into her own wallet. She understood far too well just how difficult it would be to convince her daughter that meeting Richard Castle could be a good idea. "Katie's opinions will be anything but easy to sway. It's a good thing I'm a lawyer, I'm going to have to come up with one hell of an argument."

The laugh that was shared between the two made Johanna feel good. Alive again. How was it possible for this woman, Martha Rodgers, to have become a co-conspirator, a friend, in under an hour? It was an absurd thought. And fixing her daughter up with Richard freaking Castle? The author whose titles graced both of their bookshelves? Ridiculous. Impossible.

But it was happening.

"Then it's settled." Martha's hand fell to the table top, the multiple, extravagant rings that rested on her hand making a clink. "For our stubborn, frustrating children who we love, for their own good, we'll get them together."

"How ever do they survive without us?" Cunning smirks mirrored one another. It was a long shot, but something both women were willing to attempt for the possibility of their child's happiness. The absolute goal of the plan was unsure, whether friendship or romance, but regardless, it was clear that Kate Beckett and Richard Castle could work together, somehow.

"It's a mystery." There was some odd mixture of the tone of a chuckle and a solid statement in her comment. "What say, we get to going, then? If I sit in this shop any longer I'm liable to buy a dozen more cupcakes."

"They are delicious, aren't they?" Both stood, gathering their bags and boxes and shuffling to the door. As they stepped out onto the street they left behind the smell of sugar and warm, baking ovens, and were hit with the crisp breeze of New York in the afternoon. Johanna turned to her partner on the curb, "Well, even if nothing comes of this, I'm very glad to have met you, Martha."

"You too, Dear. Oh! How could I have been so taken. You know who I am, but I don't know you. And here we've had a whole conversation and I don't even know your name."

"It's Johanna. Johanna Beckett."

"Well, it's been lovely talking to you." Before Johanna could speak another word she was pulled into an awkward one-armed hug. "And trust me, something will come of this. If I know my son, and from what you've told me of your daughter, he'll be completely taken with her. I'd bet money on it."

"Alright," Johanna laughed, taking in the confidence on Martha's face. It was something to take a lesson from. She'd have to remember that when she proposed their idea to Kate later. Kate was the only person on the planet who could see through her arguments and fight back. When Kate was a little girl and did something deserving of punishment, Johanna would fall flat. Kate would always argue that she was just using her 'lawyer-face', and Jim would have to be the strong arm.

"I'll let you be off, then." She nodded to Martha, "I should go home and change before I have to be at Kate's later. Good luck."

"And to you, too. Go on, Darling. Have a wonderful evening." Martha ushered Johanna to turn and continue on her way.

Johanna turned to call out her reply, only to find that Martha had somehow already snagged a cab from the congested street and was climbing in. She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she had indeed just spent a good chunk of her afternoon with Martha Rodgers, actress. Martha Rodgers, mother of novelist Richard Castle.

A quick glance at her watch told her she still had a little while before she needed to head to her daughter's apartment in Chelsea. It would only take her maybe twenty minutes to get there from her own Midtown residence, so, she was going to enjoy her afternoon, for sure.

She thought of her daughter and how proud she was of everything she had accomplished. Katie was always working so hard. She deserved some fun, Johanna thought. And she thought of her husband, as she ran her thumb over the underside of her wedding ring, which still adorned her hand. She knew he would've been laughing right along with she and Martha at their plan for their children.

Yes, things were definitely looking up.

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><p><em>Any thoughts? Should I write more? I'd appreciate the feedback, very much.<em>

**_Tappin  
>=) <em>**


	2. The Suggestions

_Okay. All you readers are just amazing. Seriously. Chapter two for you all!_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.  
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><p>Johanna's afternoon was spent in a comfortable calm. As soon as she walked through her front door she was toeing off her heels and heading for her balcony. Along the way she traded the box of cupcakes for a bottle of water, swapped her work suit for jeans and a button down, and picked up a novel as she moved through her bedroom to the sliding glass doors leading to her beautiful city view.<p>

It was one of her favorite things about her apartment – this view.

Once she finally felt upright again after Jim's death she decided that living in _their_ apartment was just too hard. Everywhere she looked she was reminded of her husband. And as much as she tried insisting she was fine, she wasn't. Moving had been a tough choice, and she fought about it with Kate for a while – Kate not wanting to have to separate from her childhood home – but, she could breathe here.

All of their belongings were here, pictures of she and Jim still hung on the walls, knick-knacks that they had bought on vacations still sat on the shelves, but here she could live without the painful expectation of him coming around a corner, smile on his face and coffee mugs in his hands. And sometimes, yes, the memories flooded her thoughts and it was almost too much to bare, but when that happened, she could come out on this balcony, relax into the chaise lounge she had fallen in love with, and let herself get lost in a good book and the city.

With a couple of taps to her phone she had an alarm set, reminding her when to get up and leave for her date with her daughter. Experience told her that she'd need it – she so often lost track of time when she read. It was one of those wonderful, annoying little traits she had passed on to Kate. They used to curl up on the couch together all the time with their books, little Katie reading Beverly Cleary curled into Johanna's side as she read Patterson or some other mystery thriller.

She sat and read, just powering through _A__Rose__For__Everafter_. Her little chat with the author's mother in the bakery sparked something in her to re-read one of her favorites. And she had decided not to worry about dinner entirely, so she had the time. Katie probably wouldn't have eaten anything, so, she figured they could both just have dessert for dinner.

By the time the alarm finally went off two hours later she had finished the book and was quietly enjoying the warm spring breeze and sun. With a contented sigh she was up, pulling on sandals and snagging her purse and the box of cupcakes.

It took an unusually short amount of time for her to get to Kate's, yet, when she made it upstairs, there was no answer to her knock. A certain tightness stabbed in her chest, everything suddenly felt heavy for the briefest of moments. Johanna knew it wasn't in anyone's best interest for her to be jumping to conclusions; both Kate and legal training had told her that. Her fingers tripped over each other as they danced through her purse looking for her key ring, and nervously stiffened when she shoved the spare key Kate had given her into the lock.

She pushed the door open quickly, and called out to Kate.

No reply came. The apartment was empty. And there was no answer when she tried her cell phone.

Images of her husband lying, stabbed, flashed over her field of vision. Katie had a dangerous job; it wasn't all too illogical to think something had happened, right?

Three deep breaths, she told herself. Three deep breaths and come up with a plan.

She thought of whom to call, where to go, and before she was even sure she had gotten in the cab she was paying the driver and marching into the lobby of the 12th precinct. Thankfully, the young man who so often worked downstairs knew her, and noticed her mild panic.

"Mrs. Beckett?" The hand he laid on her shoulder startled her. "Are you looking for the Detective?"

"What?" She nodded, a little more calm when she saw that he was clearly not at all worried. "Yes. Is she here?"

"Yeah," he smiled, making her remember why she liked seeing him when she came here. He was clearly a strong man, but not hulking, and with a warm, friendly smile. "Do you want me to let her know you're here?"

"No, no Officer Chapman," that was his name, she remembered, "I'll just take myself up, if that's okay?"

"Go right ahead Mrs. Beckett. Have a good day."

She returned his smile and followed another officer to the elevator, feeling much more clear-headed than she did when she first arrived. It was probably some case she was still working on. Yes, she thought, Kate had probably just lost track of the time and was still sitting on the edge of her desk, scrutinizing her white board. This had happened before, Johanna knew it, but sometimes, when she was least expecting it, that small fear that something tragic could happen to her little girl struck her like a bat.

The officer who joined her in the elevator got off at three, while she continued up one more to four – homicide. Sure enough, when she stepped off and came around the corner, she could see her daughter standing at her desk, though the board was wiped clean and she wasn't alone.

She let herself have one more deep breath, one more moment to reaffirm that Kate was fine before she strode over. "So what is it exactly that's kept my girl at work so late?" There wasn't a touch of nerves in her voice, she realized. Good.

Kate flipped around so fast Johanna wondered how she managed to not fall over. "Mom?" Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaping. "What are you doing here?"

"We had plans remember? I showed up to your apartment, but you weren't home. And you didn't answer your phone. Hello, Lanie." She smiled at the young medical examiner where she stood, leaning against Kate's desk.

"Hi, Mrs. Beckett." She returned with a faint wave of her fingers, all while looking at Kate with a face that screamed 'you're in for it now.'

"Oh," Kate twisted around to her desk and picked up her phone, "yeah, sorry." She shrugged, "it was on vibrate, and I've been in meetings for a cold case."

"A cold case?"

"Yeah. Not…not that one."

A brief moment of grief and understanding passed between the two before obvious relief washed over Johanna Beckett's face. There was always a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she heard Kate mention those words. She had gotten lost in her father's case once before, Johanna wasn't about to let it happen again.

"Oh. Good, it's lovely to see you Lanie. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Lanie nodded, "Yes ma'am. You look good."

"As do you, thank you. I don't usually see you up here when I've stopped by."

"Lanie was just going over the autopsy records with me," Kate interrupted, "I just lost track of time, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sweetheart. Lanie, I bought half a dozen cupcakes earlier, would you like to join us? You can tell me everything that Kate doesn't."

Kate's foot started tapping, frustrated and a little embarrassed, when her friend and mother shared a brief giggle at her expense. "Mom, I'm sure Lanie has her own plans."

"Relax, Kate, I don't have anything to do that's anywhere near important. I'd love to actually catch up with you guys anyway. Like your mom said, it's been a while."

Kate chewed on her bottom lip in thought, eying the two of them. She loved them, she really did, but sometimes they seemed to gang up on her. "Fine." She huffed, letting her arms drop against her thighs, before picking up her purse and messenger bag. "Let's go then." Her keys were out and in her hand by the time they got to the elevator. Johanna leaned past her to hit the call button, giving her a borderline condescending look. A smile cracked on Kate's face and she nudged her mom in the side, "I've been looking forward to those cupcakes all day. Red velvet, right? With the cream cheese frosting?" she asked as they rode down.

Johanna looked at the sweet smile on her daughter's face. Her grown daughter. It was with such a child-like tone that she posed the question. It was her favorite flavor of cupcake, Johanna knew. And Kate knew that she knew, but she always asked, if only for form. "Is there any other cupcake I'd buy for you?"

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><p>They had made it back to Kate's apartment with no hassle, and sure enough, when they walked through her door the box of cupcakes was sitting on her dining table waiting for them. "I'm going to go put these files in the other room, Lanie, you remember where the glasses are?"<p>

"You got it." Lanie looked at Johanna's mother and let out a small laugh, as she moved to the kitchen, "I can recite bones and organs in alphabetical order, but for some reason she thinks I can't remember where her glasses are, even though I'm here all the time."

The detective's mother stayed at the table, pulling the sweet treats from their little cardboard carrier, resting them on napkins. "She does the same thing to me, too," she nodded her head when Lanie came back over balancing three glasses of water, "though, I can't name bones and organs off the top of my head for anything."

When Kate walked back into the room, her shoes had been slipped off somewhere else, the pair was giggling again. "You know, it makes me a little nervous to have the two of you conspiring behind my back."

"Oh, please Katie, we were not _conspiring_." She dropped down into a chair, stretching her long legs out, "We were simply sharing anecdotes."

"Yeah," she popped a nod and a light shrug, "sure you were." She took the seat beside Lanie, across from her mother, and pulled a napkin and cupcake toward her. She started to peel away at the white paper wrapper, "Did you close your case?"

"You have reason to believe I wouldn't?" Johanna smiled, picking at her own cupcake. "Tell me about this cold case."

"Mom, please. You don't want to know."

"Are you kidding? This is what you do Katie, of course I want to know."

"Mrs. Beckett, it's pretty gruesome, trust me."

"Well water it down then if you're so concerned that my constitution can't handle it."

Kate looked at Lanie, unspoken conversation that they should probably at least say _something_. They both knew Johanna would get her information one way or another. Sometimes Kate wondered if she was so good in interrogation because she had experienced her mother's questioning so often as a kid.

"There's an apartment building that was sold, maybe eight years ago, and when the new owners were searching through the units they found a man's head in a freezer in one of the kitchens. They had no name or real ID to go on at the time, so the case has been sitting cold ever since."

"Well, I guess the term 'cold case' is perfectly applicable."

"Mom," Kate narrowed her gaze, lowered her head.

Johanna squinted, "Too much?"

"Just a bit." Kate pinched her fingers together to animate the expression. "But a body was found two weeks ago, buried in an abandoned park on the edge of Manhattan."

"Let me guess, no head?"

"Hmm, are you sure you're not the detective Mrs. Beckett?" Lanie looked between the two Beckett women, considering the astounding similarities between the two. There was no question they were mother and daughter. A blind person would know.

Johanna weighed her hands up and down like scales, "Prosecutor, Homicide Detective. Not altogether that different, when you think about it."

From where she sat, Kate smiled at the thought. It was true, their professions weren't _really_ too different, at least, not at the core purposes. And she was proud of her mother, always had been. So, to hear her mom being interested in what she was doing for families like theirs, who needed answers, made her heart swell.

"So, you're putting things together for this man? Do you know who he is?"

_Is_. Johanna thought like Kate. People were people no matter if they were alive or not.

"Yeah," Kate paused to lick a smear of frosting off her thumb, "Lanie's been working on the autopsy, and there is a match, meaning, the body belongs to the head. His name's Simon Rush, but the only family we've been able to track down is his brother who's not in the state anymore. Hopefully when he comes in we'll get some more answers."

"You will, sweetheart. You always do."

"Thanks for the confidence. But, I'm sure there are better things to talk about aside from murder."

"Yes, I'm sure. Tell me," she leaned over, looking the two women she still considered girls, "any interesting men around?"

"Mom."

"What?" She looked offended, "I'm not allowed to be interested in my daughter's relationships?"

"For that to happen, she'd have to first have a relationship," Lanie laughed, plucking another cupcake from the box. "What?" She asked when Kate thumped her shoulder. "It's true! And you shouldn't lie to your mother."

"How do you know I was planning to?" Both other women at the table shot daggers at her.

"Kate, this is _you_ we're talking about. Of course you were going to come up with some sort of cover story." Lanie continued to innocently grin as she pinched pieces of cake off.

"Yeah, well, with the two of you sitting here, I'd probably be very unsuccessful anyway." She sighed, "I need another cupcake for this conversation." She took the last cupcake, not realizing that her mother and Lanie had already grabbed their second helping. "Anyway. No. No guys."

"I told you," Lanie lectured, "you need to actually come out with me some night. One night at a bar and you'll get twenty numbers. At least."

"But I don't want twenty numbers. I don't really want one. I like being single."

"Katie, I love you, but would it kill you to have a little fun? Lanie sounds perfectly willing to help you out in that department."

"I'm sorry, but meeting guys just isn't my first priority right now."

"Well, I met someone at the bakery earlier, and she was telling me all about her son-"

"No," Kate cut her off, "absolutely no. I do not need you playing matchmaker, Yenta. _Either_ of you." She stared down both of them before getting back to enjoying the moist, richness that was her dessert, "I mean it."

"Kate, come on," her mother prodded, "he sounded like a wonderful man, and I know for a fact that you would be very interested in meeting him."

"Mom! I said no!"

Lanie piped up beside her, "Kate, at least hear her out. Your mom's a smart woman."

"Thank you," Johanna interrupted.

"You're welcome," Lanie nodded to her, "She's not going to set you up with an idiot, or an ax murderer or something."

"Fine. What's the deal with this guy, Mom?"

"Richard Castle."

"What about him?" Kate looked across the table, eyes filled with confusion. What did an author have to do with this conversation?

"That's who I'm talking about. I met his mother when I was at Magnolia earlier. She's a wonderful woman, really. We had a pretty decent conversation."

"Mom." Kate was stunned. "You met Martha Rodgers? Richard Castle's mother? And you think I should go out with him? Seriously?"

"Well, it doesn't have to necessarily be a date. Just meet him. He sounds like a very nice man."

"Have you heard about him? At all? He's practically New York's own Hugh Heffner. Every time he's out it's with another woman."

"Katie, you of all people should know that there's more to a person than you could think. Don't judge a book by its cover, didn't I teach you that?"

She shrugged, choosing to ignore Lanie's faint laugh beside her. "Regardless, it's still a no. I don't need to be set up on a play date."

"Alright." Johanna mirrored her daughter's heavy sigh, "You're not ten. I can't force you. But think about it. Martha-"

"You're on a first name basis with Richard Castle's mother?"

"You have a problem with that?" Kate's eyes darted down to the red cake crumbs left on her napkin. "I'm just saying, Martha said he's nothing like he's made out to be. You never know, maybe it'd be worth it to at least talk. But," she reached across the table and laid a loving hand on Kate's, "I'm not going to make you. It was just a suggestion."

"Thank you." Kate smiled. "For the thought and for not trying to force me into anything."

"You're welcome." Johanna leaned back into her chair. There was a pause, just for a beat, before Kate's mouth turned into a teasing grin.

"Lanie's been dating firefighters," she sang.

"Not, firefight_ers_. One firefight_er_. Singular."

Johanna teased the two of them mercilessly about their love lives every time she saw them together, but Lanie was the only one who ever really indulged and shared the gossip. It was something that hasn't changed ever since Kate and Lanie had gotten close the year both of them were just rookies on the job. Johanna liked Lanie. She was fun, and somehow managed to get Kate to have some fun every once in a while.

And the girl talk was always a welcome part of their relationship.

Their conversation turned to Lanie's animated description of the man she had seen, 'only a couple of times,' so she had said. There was something about him being "Mr. August", in the upcoming New York Firefighter's calendar. The words "muscular," "sweet," and "smart" were being thrown around. A good combination.

Johanna thought of Katie as she sat, watching her daughter watch Lanie recall some story from a date. She hadn't gone out with anyone, not seriously, since her last real boyfriend moved away. It hurt to know that her daughter was denying herself of some companionship, someone to talk to that wasn't she or Lanie. But who knew? Kate was smart; maybe she had something up her sleeve.

And, if nothing too big got in the way, she could bring Richard Castle up again. She smiled to herself, knowing that she probably would.

* * *

><p>"You know, Darling," Martha breezed into the kitchen, to the island where her son sat sulking and grumbling, "maybe if you would just write something," she proposed, eyes wide, "Gina would leave you alone."<p>

"Are you kidding?" He scoffed, "she wouldn't leave me alone for all the plot lines in the world. She should be working on selling the book I've already written, why does she have to have another one sitting and waiting right now? Don't I deserve a break?"

As far as Martha had observed in the few weeks she'd been living with her son, he had been doing nothing but taking a break. He was rarely at his computer…at least, typing at it,

"Richard. You work from home, in a plush leather arm chair surrounded by all the toys you could want-"

"They're not toys." He shrugged off the hand she had rested on his shoulder.

"-regardless, I'm not so sure you could convince her that you've worked exactly 'tirelessly'. She's not an idiot." She called behind herself as she moved again, from the bar to the table where there was some sort of pasta dish laid out with settings for three.

"Maybe I'm the idiot." He huffed, heaving off of the barstool to take himself to the table. "I knew she was a slave driver when she was just my publisher. What the hell ever made me think marrying her was a good idea?"

"I wouldn't say you're an idiot," she paused, only to call up for Alexis to come down to eat, "maybe just 'caught in the moment'. It did seem a good idea at the time, didn't it?"

"With Alexis crying about having to talk to _me_ about…girl things? Yeah, it seemed like a good idea. But now she's just taking every shot at me that she can. How am I supposed to write under that pressure?"

"And, when was the new manuscript due?" Martha pulled her chair out to sit, pointing her question at him in a rare moment of motherly instruction.

He gave her a narrow look, his eyes thin and accusing. "I don't want to talk about it."

Just as he dropped down to his chair his daughter came bounding into the room with a cheerful, yet questionable smile on her face. "Talk about what?"

"Your father was just trying to blame Gina for his writer's block."

"Mother!"

"Well, honestly Richard, you haven't written a thing since I moved in. I've seen how you like to waste time, you can't possibly expect me to believe that you're completely innocent."

"Gram," Alexis directed a disapproving sigh at her grandmother, taking her own seat at the table. "Dad, you still couldn't think of anything?"

Rick sighed at his daughter's tone of true concern. When did she grow up from that sweet little girl who liked to play princess with him into this young woman who worried about his writing? "No, pumpkin. But don't worry about it." He clapped his hands together, "Now, how about dinner? I made baked spaghetti." With both his mother and daughter watching, no doubt contemplating his procrastination, he began to serve generous spoonfuls.

If he was perfectly honest with himself, he was worried, too. He had never had such a hard time writing. Not since high school. Once he got into writing pieces of substance things just flew from there. He got published in college, and things snowballed. He had a number of best-sellers before Derrick Storm ever showed up – so what was the problem now?

"Maybe you need some inspiration, Richard." He looked up, confused with her suggestion. Did she not think he had already tried everything he could think of? "Have you thought about trying to meet anyone? A woman, maybe?"

The clink of Alexis's fork dropping rang out. When he looked over at her, her face twisted up in discomfort. "Gram, really?"

"Really, Alexis, it's just a suggestion. You know, I met this lovely woman in the bakery yesterday, and she told me all about her daughter, she's even a fan of your-"

"Mother, no." He shook his head in earnest. "No more girls. If I'm going to spend anytime with a woman I want it to be under the influence of quality alcohol, with extremely low expectations, and I can stagger back home in my drunken haze and forget about it in the morning."

"Dad." Alexis whined, frustrated with his immoral fantasies. "We talked about this."

"I know we did, I'm sorry sweetheart." He sighed, stabbing his fork into a lump of spaghetti, sauce, and cheese, "No setups, Mother. I mean it."

"But, Richard! This woman is totally different from all those party girls you're too often around. She's young, focused on her job -"

"I'm sure she's wonderful, but I really don't want to hear it. I just want to enjoy dinner with my family, and get through the book party tomorrow night without killing anyone. And trust me, that's going to be a hell of a lot harder than you think."

Martha waved her hand in a twirl, as per her usual gesture to almost anything he said that she didn't like. Despite what he insisted on believing, she did _actually_ care, and the fact that he wasn't writing _did_ worry her. He was her son, and she would always keep him at the front of her mind, in spite of his constant ribbing of her less than honorable habits.

Like he should talk.

"I'm just saying, it couldn't hurt to have someone to talk to. All you do is sit around here all day."

She sipped from her glass, waiting for his witty response. That was one of the fun parts of living with him that she hadn't realized she missed from his childhood. He had always been so precocious, and could always volley clever remarks back at her sarcasm. Sometimes their tendencies to mouth off put them in tight spots, no doubt. If anything they were certainly never bored when he was a child, for one reason or another.

"Well I thought I'm supposed to be writing another best-seller, aren't I?" The pitch of his voice lifted on his last words, "How can I do that if I'm gallivanting around the city with some woman."

"Fine, fine. You're a grown man. Do what you want."

"Thank you, Mother."

"Gram, why do you have to tease him like that? You did just suffer a tragedy Dad, killing off Derrick and all."

"See?" He exclaimed, arms stretched toward his daughter, "someone understands."

"It's just a good thing you're the author. I'm not sure medical professionals would condone such an attachment with a fictional character."

"Hey." At the sound of his mother's light laughter from his opposite side, Rick flipped, aiming an annoyed and frustrated face at her, "And don't you start."

"Oh please, Richard." She shook her head at him, still laughing, just a bit, "I'm your mother, I'm allowed."

"I'm pretty sure there's a statute of limitations on the 'I carried you for nine months and gave birth to you' card. It's been over thirty years, I don't think you can quite get away with that one anymore."

She made a noncommittal 'pfft' before turning back to her dinner.

"Dad," Alexis sighed and he turned back to face her, "Maybe Gram's right. You could use a pick-me-up." He opened his mouth, fully intending to speak but she cut him off, "Really. I hate to see you so bummed out. Just think about it. Besides, if you keep using your time to cook like this, and with whipped cream for dessert, we're going to have to invest in a gym membership." Her eyebrows lifted, head cocked in tease. But there was something in her face that told Rick that his daughter was really worried for his sanity.

He looked back and forth, at his mother and Alexis for a second. He felt like he had two mothers. That was just…wrong. _He_ was supposed to be the parent here. At least…Alexis's parent. His mother as another story.

Though, recently he felt like her parent too. Which was an entirely creepy thought.

"Fine. I'll think about it. Ah-" He saw his mother move to speak out of the corner of his eye and pointed a finger in her face, "-that doesn't mean I want you to go call this…girl right now. I need to get through this _Storm__Fall_ stuff. Then _we__'__ll__see_," he stressed. "I mean it. No calling. Got it?"

Martha huffed, her shoulders sinking with the gravity of it, "Fine. Have it your way. But I'm telling you, this girl seems different." He simply stared at her statement, clearly fed up with this conversation. "Alright, alright. Enough of this. Alexis tell me about school."

Rick's mind zoned out, the sounds of his mother and daughter falling to the background of his conciousness. He really, _really_ needed _something_. Anything. He thought giving Derrick and ending would be easier. He did not expect the boredom to get worse. His days were filled with video games, remote control cars and helicopters, and staring at a mockingly blank word document.

He needed inspiration - that was for sure. But he wasn't entirely sure a woman was what he needed right now. Or wanted. Especially one who was apparently a fan.

* * *

><p><em>So, this is like...the longest single chapter I've ever written...EVER. I'm so glad that so many of you are into this story, and since first posting it, my plans for it have seriously expanded, after hearing what people had to say. I hope I'll be able to update fairly frequently, but I'm really hesitant to make it a promise. <em>

_I have to thank my amazing beta HeatXWave10, who somehow still hasn't killed me for all my questions. _

_Thanks again, so so much for reading! Let me know what you think!_

**_Tappin  
>=) <em>**


	3. The Questions

_Exam, Audra McDonald Concert, History Paper, and my own confusion: all things that prolonged the posting of this chapter. For anyone who's been kind enough to be waiting, I really appreciate it, and I'm sorry for the wait. _

_Disclaimer: Just borrowing.  
><em>

* * *

><p>It was a long walk down the hall to the crime scene. But then again, she reminded herself, it always was. The instant she crossed the yellow police tape draped on the door time started moving slower. Part of her wondered if that sinking feeling would ever go away. Wondered, if she'd ever be able to look at the plastic 'do not cross' warning, and <em>not<em> suffer a split-second flashback to that night, and those officers at their door.

Just like she always did, Kate swallowed the ache back down and thought of the victim she was working for now.

She was knelt down next to the woman's body, examining the overflow of rose petals that very nearly fell off of the black table her body was laying on. The girl had been beautiful once, her sunny blonde hair splayed out over the black table her body was rested on. It was tragic to see such a life cut short.

Of course, it was always tragic no matter whose face was on her whiteboard. And no matter how many times she crossed the tape, no matter how familiar she was with the metallic smell of blood, freshly spilled, it always pinched her chest.

Esposito rattled off the basic information for her, who she was, what she did. It clearly wasn't a violent death. Not a robbery, not a rape. Or even an attempt at either.

"Even bought her flowers. Who says romance is dead?"

She stood back up, standing next to Lanie when she came over to her side. "I do. Every Saturday night."

"Oh, don't even try, girl. We _just_ had this conversation last night, did we not?" There was that look in Lanie's eyes that told her not to argue. She knew from experience that shutting up about it would be her best course of action. And, if she were honest, her friend did have a little bit of a point.

Kate pointed her attention back to Allison Tisdale's body. "So what else did he give her besides roses?"

Lanie took her pair of tweezers, moving aside two rose petals that were lying covering the entry wounds. There was a pink stain to the fair skin of the girl's stomach. It was almost as if the roses had bled onto her body, rather than her body bleeding onto the roses. "Two shots to the chest. Small caliber."

She took a moment, taking in the scene more closely. There was something about it…something, that just seemed…similar? "Does this look familiar to anyone?"

"No." Esposito shook his head, "But, I'm not the one with the thing for freaky ones. Just give me a Jack-shot-Jill-over-Bill so I can get my collar and go home."

It amused her, that he could never pass up an opportunity to tease her preference for complicated cases. It wasn't for any particular reason. She just, liked to work cases with substance.

"Oh, but the freaky ones require more. They reveal more. Look at how he left her. Covered. Modestly." She toed a line around the body.

"So?"

"So despite all of the effort, all the preparation, you aren't going to find any evidence of sexual abuse."

"You really get that from just this?" The quirk of his eyebrow was plenty of indication that he wanted more explanation.

"This, plus I've seen this before. Where?"

It hit her when she was right in the middle of stepping through the scene. She had known the second the saw the body that it was out of something she had read in a book. She thought, when Lanie brought up their conversation from last night, that it was vaguely reminiscent of Richard Castle's style of murder.

But it wasn't until Esposito's remark that she knew. This was no ordinary murder.

"Roses on her body, sunflowers on her eyes?" The tiniest part of her was excited by the idea. Clearly the guys weren't following. "Don't you guys read?

This was _Flowers __For __Your __Grave_.

* * *

><p>The fact that she was walking into the book launch party for <em>Storm <em>_Fall_ was something completely unexpected. She had always been a fan of his books, but she _never_ thought she'd be here.

Although, the even more mind-boggling piece was the fact that she was going into this book party to _possibly_ arrest him.

The party was exactly what she'd expect from someone like him. Everything was coated with glitz, loud music thumping from the speakers, just pushing to be heard over the hoard of women that flooded the room. The bartender looked rather busy, and from what Kate could gather, he probably had been and would be all night.

She could see the writer's back as she crossed the room, standing at the bar with a young woman she presumed to be his daughter. She did know he had one. That knowledge coming from reading the biography on his website was a fact that no one but her needed to know.

The teenager was leaning over what looked from a distance, to be a textbook, a pen perched in her hand, all while clearly carrying on a conversation with her father. Judging from the look on her face it was probably a mildly frustrating conversation. For a split second as she approached she could hear her mother's voice in the back of her head, trying to tell her to give him a chance, not to judge people. Without hesitation, she pushed that voice down before taking those final steps up to the bar.

Kate took a deep breath and steeled herself to face him.

Badge in hand, and with her best cop tone she caught his attention. "Mr. Castle?"

Almost exactly as she thought, he hadn't even completely turned around to face her before playboy comments were leaking from his mouth. There was a Sharpie in his hand and a smug smirk on his face. "Where would ya' like?"

And her mother thought he was different?

Opinions firmed, she focused her gaze and picked her badge up just enough to be obvious.

"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight."

His face instantly froze, not quite falling just yet. But Kate would be completely kidding herself if she said she _wasn__'__t_ somewhat pleased at the face that she was able to _stun_ Richard Castle.

Nothing happened for a beat. She didn't speak and neither did he. And she fully intended on letting him initiate the rest of this conversation. Before a sound could come from him his daughter was leaning over his shoulder, plucking the marker from his hand.

"That's new."

"I'm sorry?" Kate cocked her head, "Not exactly used to seeing officers at your parties, are you Mr. Castle?"

"Um," he turned, quickly shooing and murmuring to his daughter something about finding her grandmother, "no, actually. Can't say I've ever been asked about a murder, either."

"Well there's a first time for everything. However, I'm afraid I do have to pull you away from your party," she said, taking a sweeping look around the room.

'Party'? 'Room full of scantily clad women' seemed a more appropriate moniker.

"Let me just tell my publisher I'm leaving or you'll be investigating another murder."

"Mr. Castle," she called as he turned to walk away, "first of all, you don't want to joke about murder with a cop, and second," she nodded to the uniformed officer that accompanied her into the party, "Officer Holmes is going to be going with you." She flashed him her own smug smile, completely confident that she was going to be in charge here.

Richard Castle, the womanizing, childish author, _would __not_ be dealing the cards tonight.

* * *

><p>Just half an hour later Kate was standing in the observation room. Observing Richard Castle as he twiddled his thumbs in Interrogation. She was letting him stew. And letting herself stew…just a little bit.<p>

It had been an exhausting ride back from the party. He sat in the back of her cruiser, and asked questions almost the whole way.

_Do you have handcuffs? Can I see them?_

_Does every NYPD officer get a car? Or can you use your own?_

_Do you have a partner?_

_Does every female detective look like you?_

He was relentless. It took every fiber of her being to not shoot him. Every time he opened his mouth she had to remind herself of the amount of paperwork she'd get if she did.

Her fingers ran along the edges of his file as she held it to her chest. It was a decent thickness for an author. When she opened it up a few minutes ago she found quite the interesting array of charges. She had known he had a 'reputation', but didn't realize that he had ever been arrested.

But, she wasn't here to arrest him, and she really shouldn't particularly care about his file. There was a murder to solve, and he had _something_ to do with it. She just wasn't sure what that something was yet.

Kate allowed herself one more moment of silence, to close her eyes and take a deep breath, clear her mind of everything but the girl who's murderer she wanted to find. It was her ritual. Before any questioning or interrogation she took a second to refocus on her purpose. She found it helped keep her grounded.

With a final calming breath she turned to leave observation and make the small round to interrogation. Personal convictions aside, she opened the door, one hundred percent Detective Kate Beckett.

"Mr. Castle, you've got quite a rap sheet for a best selling author. Disorderly conduct, resisting arrest."

Nothing. He just looked at her and shrugged. "Boys will be boys."

Did nothing faze him? He was sitting in a police station being questioned about a _murder_, and all he had to say to her was 'boys will be boys'? Kate brushed the remark off with a sarcastic twitch of her lips and looked at the file again.

"Says here that you stole a police horse?"

"Borrowed," he piped.

"Ah." Of course he had an argument. "And you were…nude, at the time."

"It was spring."

It was ridiculous. He should have at least been fined for his stupidity. Rules were rules and no one could avoid them because they were high profile with friends in the system. She hated guys like him - guys who abused their connections to get out of consequences for their actions. "And every time the charges were dropped."

"What can I say, the mayor is a fan. But if it makes you feel any better, I'd be happy to let you spank me." He had leaned over the metal table, his hands folded together with that oh so smug demeanor that did nothing to quell how she felt about him.

She had to bite back the few choice words that popped into her head before they stumbled out of her mouth.

"Mr. Castle," she sighed, "this whole bad boy charm thing you've got going on might work for bimbettes and celebutaunts. Me? I work for a living. So that makes you one of two things - either the guy who makes my life easier, or the guy who makes my life harder. And trust me, you do not want to be the guy who makes my life harder." She finished up with a smile, polite enough to be annoying and assert her place in this interrogation.

"Kay."

It seemed to shut him up, well enough for her to get on with her purpose. Allison Tisdale deserved the attention, just like every other victim whose face had once, and would cross her desk.

"Allison Tisdale. Daughter of real estate mogul Jonathan Tisdale."

"She's cute-"

"She's dead. Did you ever meet her?" She questioned, "Book signing, charity event?"

The tone that accompanied her words wasn't one she was exactly proud of, but hey, he was Richard Castle, and clearly he didn't really mind. Though, he shot her a look that made her almost squirm in her seat.

"It's possible. She's not in my little black book if that's what you're asking."

At least he understood his own impression. She traced connections in her head as she pulled out the next photo.

"What about this guy?" She slid the glossy eight and a half by eleven sheet across the table. The eyes of another victim looked up at the bit of ceiling between the writer and detective. "Marvin Fisk, small claims lawyer."

Kate remembered getting the call that night. She had been on what was supposed to be a date with some guy named Matt who Lanie had set her up with. They were in the middle of making awkward small talk over appetizers when the 'murder line' rang.

That was her last attempt at dating.

"Most of my claims tend to be on the um…large side."

She rolled her eyes at the remark, irritated that at the cockiness.

"So what's this got to do with me?" There was just a tease of real concern in his voice. It was unexpected and put her in just enough of a better mood to be so inclined as to carry on.

"Fisk was found murdered in his office two weeks ago. I didn't put it together until I the Tisdale crime scene tonight." Without another word, no hint to point him to her angle, she slid the photo of the girl covered in roses and sunflowers across the cold metal.

Rick Castle's voice came out as more of a whisper, "_Flowers __For __Your __Grave_."

She watched as he picked up the photo to inspect it closer. He should know after all, and she expected him to at least be slightly rattled by the realization of what the scene meant for him. "And this is how we found Marvin Fisk." Another photo came out of the folder, slapped against the tabletop. "Right out of _Hell __Hath __No __Fury_."

Holding both pictures, one in each hand, he peered up at her, "Looks like I have a fan."

"Yeah," she agreed, "a really deranged fan." As far as Kate was concerned, anyone who could reduce to murder was deranged. But she'd never seen something like this before. Sure, she had heard about it - serial killers copying methods of famous tales or predecessors – but the Twelfth had never had one to take down before.

From her seat she watched as he took another look at the two crime scenes. Suddenly, his lips turned to a smirk, oh so subtle, but yet another dig to irritate her.

"Oh, you don't look deranged to me." His voice practically sang.

Did he want her to throw a punch? Every inch of her right arm was just itching to do just that, but the logical part of her brain fought back.

"What?" She spat.

"_Hell __Hath __No __Fury_?" He leaned over again, slower, folding his fingers together. "Angry Wiccans out for blood?" A puff of air left his mouth, almost as if his fans amused him, making him think they were absurd. "Only hardcore castle groupies read that one."

She shook her head at the thought. Not embarrassed, or upset, just thrown for words at the haughtiness of his attitude. "Do any of these groupies write you letters?" He just nodded, and she quirked her eyebrow. "Disturbing letters?"

With an air of confidence he stated that all his fanmail was disturbing. An "occupational hazard," he called it. She found that she didn't care too much for how informed he was on theories of psychopaths and murder. He was arrogant and smug, and seemed to think thin attempts at flirting with her would be wise.

But she could ignore that. She'd done it before, and still did. It wasn't _that_ rare for her to walk to a crime scene and have someone, a uniform, a passerby, _someone_ making cat calls at her. Kate had developed a steel against the male chauvinists of her world.

It was the blatant disregard for justice that caught her in a hold and wouldn't let go. Richard Castle didn't care if she took his fanmail, probably, she thought, wouldn't care if she took his personal mail, either. But as she turned to walk out of the interrogation room, he piped up, _again_, with a finger pointed at the file folder tucked under her arm.

"Can I get copies of those?"

She froze for a fraction of a second before slowly spinning on her heel to look at him again. "Copies?"

"I have this poker game. It's mostly other writers, Patterson, Cannell, you know? Best-sellers. You have no idea how jealous those would make them." The last sentence came out on what she would call a laugh.

It was inappropriate to say the least, when there was a serious criminal to be caught.

"Jealous?"

"That I have a copy cat." He got excited, much like a child would at the news of getting a new toy. "Oh my gosh, in my world that's like the red badge of honor, that's like the criminal Cooperstown."

Kate had had enough. Enough of the playing, enough of the disrespect. She practically flew from where she was standing to smack her hands against the table. She got right up in his face, not caring about 'personal space.' "People are dead Mr. Castle."

"I'm not asking for the bodies, just the pictures."

It took a few calming moments as she looked into his uncaring eyes for her to get a grip. He wasn't worth her breath. He wasn't worth her time. All she wanted to do was solve her case and get rid of him.

"I think we're done here."

She turned and left without giving him a second to think. Back at her desk she opened the file and began putting it up on her board where should could look at everything at once and try to find the answer.

There had to be some connection, she thought, aside from Castle's books.

And, she mused, she thought her mother could use a reality check.

* * *

><p>Richard Castle leaned against the back wall of the elevator as it rose to his floor. It took longer than he expected at the police station and he had missed the rest of the party. Gina would be on his ass about that. He had to remember that as much as he hated her, and all too often wanted to throw her off the roof, that she was actually good at her job.<p>

She was just a bitch everywhere else.

She'd give him grief for missing the party and the publicity, and then she'd give him more grief about writing. She'd claim Black Pawn would want the return of the advance they had given him, for the book he wasn't writing.

This time, he feared, they may actually go through with it, because he really did have _nothing_.

Not even the thinnest thread of a plot idea.

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets to fish out his key. The faint notes of the piano could be heard as he slid the cool metal into the lock and felt the tumblers' catch and release.

When he walked in he found his mother, seated at the baby grand, her fingers dancing across the keys to a song he vaguely remembered her singing when he was younger.

From _Guys __and __Dolls_? Or was it _Oklahoma_?

"Hey, Kiddo!" She cut off the melody and practically leapt off the piano bench to meet him. "What's all this about a murder? Alexis told me that you left the party with a police detective?" She followed him through to the kitchen, where he was dropping his keys and wallet on the counter.

"Yes, Mother. There was a murder earlier today and they needed to ask me a few questions about it."

"Well why on Earth? You don't look anything like a murderer."

He had turned away from her to open the fridge. For a moment, he let the silence sit as he looked for his whipped cream. His, because Alexis never seemed to want any. Something about it being childish to eat from the can.

"First of all," he turned back around, can in hand and a puzzled look on his face, "how would you know what a murderer looks like?" She only shrugged in a mildly annoyed way. "And second," he cocked a smile, "they needed me because it was a copy of one of my books."

Still with a somewhat playful feeling he passed back past her and headed for his office. he could hear the click of her stilettos against the hardwood and stifled a groan. The prospect of having a copy-cat excited him on one level, but then he remembered that the people in those photos were _actually_ dead.

Non-fiction.

The smile slid from his face as he thought. That was why he was a writer. Because he despised the finality of reality. In his books he could do whatever he cared. Once he got over the intrigue, the fact that two _real_ deaths mimicked his fiction left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Richard, what do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he said on a sigh, "two people were killed in the same way I've killed them in my books."

"Oh, Darling, that's awful! I can't imagine what that feels like."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against his desk. "Honestly, I can't really decide. Part of me thinks it's kinda cool, but then I remember those pictures…" he trailed off, seemingly examining his shoes before looking back up at his mother, "It's surreal, it feels like something I _would_ actually write."

"Do they have any leads?" She took a couple of steps to lean against the desk at his side. Shoulder to shoulder.

"Only me." He shrugged. "Someone's picking up my fan mail tomorrow, they're looking for a connection between the two victims."

"I see. So, you're not a suspect?"

"Nope. Probably a good thing for the detective, too. Don't think she really cared for me." In a split second he decided to turn things around. He clapped his hands together, pushing off from the wood desk. "Too bad for her, I'm going back tomorrow." Before his mother could even get her thought from her head to her mouth he was off and moving again. This time through the door adjoining his office and bedroom.

"Explain to me, why the hell would you do that?" She continued to follow him as he continued to ignore her. He was standing in his closet, removing his suit jacket and shoes, just thinking about look that would surely be on Detective Beckett's face tomorrow morning when he walked back into the precinct.

"Richard Castle, are you listening to me?"

She was so close to yelling that it made him chuckle. "Yes, Mother. I'm listening to you. But think about it: who could be better at reading Richard Castle's fan mail than Richard Castle?"

"Seriously," She shook her head with that oh so sarcastic tone that drove him nuts. "Tell me, Darling, when's the last time you actually sat and read through your own mountain of letters?"

He froze. Oh yeah. He hadn't done that in a while.

"That," he pointed a finger at her, "is not my point."

She gave him no response but the stare-down she had perfected. He knew it all too well from his days of getting himself locked in the library. He rolled his eyes right back at her and moved to put away his watch and the sunglasses that had been sitting in his pocket. A yawn caught in his throat, reminding him just how long of a day it had been.

"Look, I just, want to do whatever I can to help with this case. It's…personal. I'm sure Detective Beckett will understand that."

Martha's head popped up. "Who?" There was no way. There was no way such a coincidence could possibly have occurred.

"Detective Beckett." He said the name as if it was the most casual thing in the world. "She's the detective who questioned me. Just a bit up tight if you ask me, but very…passionate."

"You're sure it was Beckett?"

"Yes, why-" When he saw the look on her face his brain slammed on the breaks and doubled back to their conversation last night. "Oh no. Don't tell me she's the-"

"Yeah."

"Mother!"

"Well, I'm not the one who told her to come and arrest you!"

"She did not arrest me!"

"Then why are you yelling at me?"

"I-" Rick froze with his hands in mid-wave. There was probably a point there, he realized. All his mother did was _suggest_ that he meet her. And as far as he knew, she did not have the connections to make sure they met, at least not the way they did.

It was just one of those one-in-a-million, fortuitous meetings.

"Just forget it. It doesn't really matter, does it?" He huffed, he was too tired for this. All he wanted to do was pass out for the next ten hours before having to deal with the frustrations that were sure to come after disappearing for his own party.

"Oh, please Richard. Of course it matters."

"Mother, it doesn't. I'm just going to offer to help with the case and that's it. I'm not…interested in anyone right now."

"Fine," she brushed past him to leave, but turned back in the doorway, "go play gumshoe with the pretty detective. Just remember what happened when you learned how to play hockey for that girl in the tenth grade. I hope you don't get your teeth knocked out this time."

As soon as his mother had gone for good for the night one of his hands instinctively came up, rubbing the front of his mouth. He thought of the spitfire detective who challenged him just hours before.

"Yeah," he murmured to himself, "I hope so too."

* * *

><p><em>This chapter is more a re-work of the pilot, I realize, but it's set up for what's hopping around in my brain. I promise.<em>

_T__ruth is, I've been trying to figure out what I'm doing with this story. I thought I knew, but the idea has sort of changed. I'm apparently a lot closer to finishing my original plan than I thought, but the story has kind of blown up in my brain and I'm trying to work with it as I go. I know where I want it to go, just not 100% sure of how to get there. But I'm workin' on it!_

_Please let me know if you're still into this._

_Tappin_

_=)_


	4. The Search

_Keep in mind, we're in an Alternate Universe of the pilot right now. But I promise, bigger things are coming!  
><em>

* * *

><p>It was early when Kate left with Detective Kevin Ryan to collect Castle's fan mail. The sun had just barely risen over the city, the two detectives only setting foot in the precinct for a beat before turning to leave again. Ryan had just barely had time to order his stack of paperwork and snag a donut from the break room before Kate called him over to go.<p>

Before he left the day before, Castle informed them that he did not in fact have it in his own possession, but rather, it was housed at his publishing house since, according to him, there were too many letters for him to find space for in his apartment. Truthfully, she was still irritated over how the questioning with the writer had gone, his attitude still nagged in her brain. Kate just needed to remember to refocus that frustration into energy for her investigation.

One sliding glance at the murder board had reminded her that there were victims to serve, that her own convictions were not the most important thing on her plate right now.

"So, Castle, huh?" Ryan spoke up as he thumbed through the writer's file as they drove uptown.

Her eyes scrunched with question at his. When they pulled up at a red light she answered, "What about him?" Her hands unconsciously clenched on the wheel.

"Nothing really, I guess. Just, he's different. Certainly likes you."

"Oh no. I don't think so."

"Really, Beckett? You're a detective. You really didn't notice yesterday that during the entire time you were dealing with this paperwork he couldn't take his eyes off of you?"

"Please. He's ridiculous. He'd look at anything that dares to call itself a 'female'. The silver lining is that he's too arrogant to read his own mail. So, I don't have to see him again." She made her left turn with a heavy sigh, and repeated it when she saw the amount of traffic in front of her. "It's Tuesday morning, shouldn't people be at work."

Ryan made non-committal, almost laughable noise from his seat. "Don't assume, Beckett. You know what they say about assuming."

She rolled her eyes at him and his smug smile. "And you know what I think about anything the ambiguous 'they' say."

"It's hypocritical to believe hypothetical assumptions about assumptions." He droned, "Yes, yes, we've heard the lecture."

"Then I'd think you could remember it by now."

"Yes, mom."

She glared at him after pulling the car in front of the miniature skyscraper that was the office building housing Black Pawn Publishing. "We have mail to collect."

They strode into the lobby, which looked exactly as Kate would expect for a building Richard Castle would frequent. High ceilings above the desk, a small marble water fountain in front of it, and off to one side, a small seating area full of ritzy black patent leather chairs and couches. Glass tables loaded with the thickest of fashion and entertainment magazines. Who would want to read that when they were waiting, for anything? And did they leave you waiting long enough for you to actually have the time?

The detectives went only marginally interrupted as the receptionist, a bleach blonde stick of a woman with bambi eyes, opened her mouth to question their presence. Badges were pulled out, and the woman – girl? – shut her mouth.

"What floor is Black Pawn Publishing on?"

"The tenth," she spoke in a small, but still hoity tone. "Would you like me to buzz you up to the desk?"

"Thanks okay," Kate retorted, "I think we can handle it. Thank you."

Ryan followed, the pair strode into the elevator, and rode up to the tenth floor. By the time they reached the desk, the detectives determined that the lobby assistant must have "buzzed up" anyway, because they stepped off to be greeted by a tall, trim man in a fine grey suit.

"What can I help you officers with today?" The man's hands were neatly clasped behind his back, and there was an all too accommodating smile on his face.

Ryan took the turn to speak this time, addressing the gentleman with the polite tone of voice that he was so good at. "We're here to pick up Richard Castle's fan mail. We have a warrant if you need to see it."

"Not a problem at all," he smiled again. Kate felt that there was an odd air about this entire office. Everything was clean-cut, and silent. Only the faint hum of computers and phones in the air. How could someone work in such a stiff environment?

But then again, what was a first class publishing house compared to her precinct?

"Let me call Gina, Mr. Castle's editor. She'll be able to help you." The man turned on a dime to go find whoever 'Gina' was, leaving the two detectives standing in the foyer.

Ryan leaned over, whispering, "So what do you think it'd be like to work in a place like this?"

"Pretty damn boring that's for sure. Where's all the chaos and murder we love so much?"

Her friend let out a small laugh. "Well, Castle does write murder mysteries, so I guess there's some degree of murder to enjoy."

"All I know is you stick me in a room with people like this for too long and there really _will_ be a murder." She plastered on her investigative face when she spotted the petite blonde coming towards them.

"Officers-"

"Detectives." Kate swiftly corrected.

"I'm sorry. Detectives." She held out her hand for each of them, "I'm Gina Cowell, Mr. Castle's editor. I'm told you need his fan mail?"

"Yes, Mr. Castle's books have become the focus of a murder investigation, and we have reason to believe one of his fans may be responsible for the deaths of two people."

"You can't be serious. That sounds like something he would write."

"Well Miss Cowell, no matter what it sounds like, we do need to collect his mail. Like I told your, assistant, is he? We have a warrant. You are obligated to comply."

A thin look of frustration slid across Gina's pale features, she definitely did not look pleased with Kate. Not that Kate cared.

"Rick must just love you, Detective. Strong woman, gets what she wants. I bet he's having the time of his life." With a smirk she motioned to a hallway and asked them to follow her. The room she opened up was stacked, floor to celing, with US Postal Service bins full of envelopes. "Now, would you like for me to arrange for this to be delivered to your facilities, or can you handle that Detective?"

Kate abhorred people like Gina. People who had a smug confidence about them, who thought that they were in charge and anyone who ruined their routine was just not welcome. Even worse was the seeming lack of respect for the fact that they were two New York City Detectives, investigating what was now a double homicide.

She felt her fist ball in her coat pocket, she nodded to Ryan, both moved further into the room to select bins to carry down. "I'll have uniforms over shortly. Thank you very much for your assistance to the NYPD."

"Not a problem at all. I'll send word down to let your officers up."

"Ain't she a piece of work?" Ryan scoffed as he thumbed through a few of the envelopes sticking out of a stack.

"You're telling me." Kate sighed and took mental stock of everything they'd have to read through later. Somewhere in these letters was a key to their case. It had to be. "Come on, the sooner we get these back to the precinct the sooner we can close this case."

"You just don't want to deal with Castle anymore." The mocking tone in his voice did not amuse her. Not one bit. And he had that smirk on his fact that was, god forbid she admit it, kind of cute. In a partner-brother sort of way.

She checked him in the shoulder, nodded to a rather tall stack of mail, "Shut up and get moving."

* * *

><p>Just shy of an hour later the two detectives were walking back into the precinct, a couple uniforms and thousands of fan letters in tow.<p>

"That's all his mail?" Esposito remarked, surprised, from the doorway to the conference room.

"Yup!" Kate unloaded her bin into his arms with a grunt as Ryan and the other offices filed in. "His fans love him almost as much as he loves himself."

He cracked a smile, one of those smiles that made her nervous. "Oh then you're just going to love what Montgomery's got for you." Scarcasm dripped from the words like melting ice, so obvious that any cop fresh out of the Academy could pick it out.

"What are you talking about?"

Esposito paused, taking stock of the array of emotions on her face. He always had a hard time figuring his boss out. They'd worked together for years now, but aside from when she was speaking to families, he had never seen one clear-cut emotion from her.

He nodded for her to turn around. "See for yourself."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. Came in about twenty minutes ago, said he wants to help."

"And Montgomery's okay with that." She fought to keep herself from yelling, the effort straining her voice to a tight rasp of a whisper. "How?"

"Dude's got connections. Something about the mayor."

It took every bit of self-control she could wrangle to _not_ strangle him. Or Esposito. Or anyone else who bore more frustration today. Her stomach rolled when she swallowed the lump of fury in her throat, hands fisted at her sides, she marched over to her Captain, and Castle.

"Sir?"

He looked to her with a contented smile. "Detective," he motioned, "Rick Castle. He's kindly offered his assistance with the case."

Kate avoided eye-contact with the writer. "With all do respect, Sir, but I've got this. There's nothing that we need any help with."

"Beckett, you just hauled in hundreds of letters, surely the subject could at least give you a hand in sorting through them faster. We do know how valuable our time is."

She couldn't find anymore words to even try and assuage her superior that she was okay – that she could lead the investigation without the smallest instance of trouble. But he was giving her that look. His Captain look. The one that was worse then when her father used to not-so-subtly threaten that she better be home by curfew. He'd give her that look and she'd know that the plan had been set, and there was no possibility of haggling over the issue.

Castle piped up from his place beside Montgomery, "After all, it is the least I can do to help New York's finest. Especially when it's sort of my fault."

"Nonsense, Mr. Castle." The Captain clapped him on the shoulder, halfway directing him to follow Kate to the conference room. "Lots of psychotic people in this city. Not your fault." His glare shot at the detective, "You'll show Mr. Castle here to his fanmail, Detective? Maybe he'll find something useful."

She pursed her lips and nodded, feeling her nails digging into her palms.

* * *

><p>It was the thirty-seventh letter she had read. She had read through thirty-seven fan letters, all from fans devoting their eternal love to Castle. The carefully drawn cursive writing, the little cartoon hearts, and the endless string of flattering and ridiculous adjectives were starting to drive her insane.<p>

And then there was the subject of such 'adoration' himself, staring at her. Peering like a child, over the letter he was supposed to be skimming for evidence.

"What?"

"Nothing, just, the way your brow furrows when you're thinking? It's cute. Well, not if you're playing poker, but-"

"Can I ask you a question?" Even after cutting him off he didn't seem to mind. She took his somewhat vigorous nod as a go-ahead. "Why are you here?" She dropped her arms against the tabletop, the force sending papers up before floating back down again. "You don't care about the victims so, you're not here for justice, you don't seem to care that the guy is aping your books, so you aren't here because you're outraged. So what is it, Rick?" She shrugged, irritated. "Are you here to annoy me?"

"I'm here for the story."

"The story?" Really?

"Why those people? Why those murders?"

Kate leaned over the table with a sigh and gingerly folded her hands together on top of a short stack of yellow legal paper. "Well, I hate to tell you, but sometimes, there is no story. Sometimes the guy is just a psychopath."

"Oh, there's always a story."

He argued as if he had professional experience. She was the homicide detective. He just, _imagined_ things for a living.

"There's always a chain of events that makes everything make sense. Take you for example. Under normal circumstances, you should not be here. Most smart, good-looking women become lawyers, not cops. And yet, here you are. Why?"

Leaning back in her chair, she quirked an eyebrow at him. Her trademark sign of inquiry. "I don't know, rick, you're the novelist, you tell me."

"Well you're not bridge-and-tunnel, no trace of the Burrows when you talk, so that means Manhattan, that means money."

She gave him the faintest of nods, and he continued.

"You went to college, probably a pretty good one, you had options. Yeah, you had lots of options, more socially acceptable options, but you still chose this. That tells me, something happened. Not to you. You're wounded, but your not that wounded."

Everything in her tightened up. There was a new knot in her chest that seemed to spread all the way down to her toes, where she could feel the muscles straigning, pinching the digits together.

"It was somebody you cared about. Someone you loved. And you're probably gonna live with that but the person responsible was never caught. And that Detective Beckett is why you're here."

Her right hand crept over her left from where they rested in her lap. Fingers danced over the worn leather adorning her wrist, the smallest of reminders that her father loved her. That she loved him. Somehow he hit the nail on the head and she was forced to fight off the tears, push back the images of her dad smiling, laughing, then lying in the morgue.

"Cute trick. But don't think you know me." Before he could meet her eyes she was looking back down at the sheets of paper and envelopes strewn over the table.

"The point is there's always a story, you just have to find it."

"Yeah? Well, you get to be here for this one story. Then you're back to making up your own."

"Do you really have to be so harsh? I know I don't exactly have a spotless record, but I like to think that I'm really not the guy that my reputation, and my publicist suggest."

"Being a somewhat public figure, shouldn't you know that reputations are everything?"

"Being a detective, shouldn't you know that not everything is as it seems?"

They stared at each other, biases and retorts left hanging in the air. She couldn't lie, he did have a point. She should know better. And damn it, she was good at her job, the best. So, why was it that he got so under her skin?

"You're right. I'm…I'm sorry."

"Well, I'm glad to know that your mother taught you proper manners."

Her head perked up. Oh yeah, she reminded herself, there was _that_ to think about, too. And he apparently knew about her mother's - theirmothers' little scheme.

"And yours should be ashamed that you can't hold a full conversation without some childish remark or sexual innuendo."

"Oh, you haven't met my mother," Castle laughed.

Kate glared, "Look, my mom seems to have this persistent urge to find ways to help me, or so she thinks. I don't need to be kept. I'm not a child, she has no right to try and set me up on…play dates." She looked back to what she was reading.

"Detective, I have no doubt that you do not need to be kept. Like I said, smart, beautiful woman. Good at your job-"

"Castle."

"Yeah, I know you like to be in charge, but can you at least let me finish-"

"Castle! Look at this." She held up the yellow sheets to his eye-level. The page was covered in a very crude, violent drawing of what was _Flowers For Your Grave_. What was Allison Tisdale's murder scene.

"I think I just found your story."

* * *

><p><em>I'm really, <strong>really<strong>, sorry for anyone who's been waiting for this. Because you guys are really awesome. I probably started this at a bad time for me, because I had exams, and then I had winter break and all the family stuff that goes along with that, and then I just had total writer's block and could not come up with decent anything for this fic. _

_But I spent all of last weekend coming up with a full outline, so I know exactly where I'm going with this. Hopefully, I won't have such a hard time getting things done anymore, my schedule this semester is a lot more conducive to writing for my own enjoyment. Because I do enjoy this. _

_Thanks so much to my awesome beta Kayli (**HeatXWave10**) for being so amazing and helpful, and to **International08**, for helping to get me motivated again. _

_And of course thanks to all you amazing readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Hit the button, let me know what you think! Lots more to come!_

_**Tappin**_

_=)_


	5. The Twists

_Truth be told, this is not my favorite chapter I've ever written. But I think it does the proper transition job. _

_Thanks so much to my beta Kayli, **HeatXWave10**, for dealing with all my complaining and bugging, and for helping to get this chapter post-able. You're awesome, dear!  
><em>

* * *

><p>She had shown him the letter, plunging another hit to his gut. She then reassured him that the letter was going right to the lab, where it would be analyzed for prints. Something will break, she told him. He hadn't thought it could get any worse then, only an hour earlier. Obviously he had been wrong.<p>

A faint whisper passed his lips. "_Death of a Prom Queen_."

He stood at the edge of the pool, staring. Her body was just floating, ever so gently bobbing with the faint ebb and flow of the water. Facedown, knife in her back. Just like his book.

Almost.

"You know in my book her dress is blue."

"Focus, Castle. Someone's been murdered, this is not the time for fashion consulting."

"But I am focusing. I'm a writer, I focus on the details." Details made the story. They were one of the most important things he tended to when he was writing, so obviously the wouldn't matter any less now. Just because this was non-fiction.

"Just," she huffed, "just stay over here, and don't touch anything."

He nodded, still staring at the woman's body. Beckett had strode over to the group of officers standing on the opposite end of the pool, leaving him alone. He could see the words from his book in his head, the text scrolling by, telling the story, of the prom queen murdered by the scorned runner up with an Elektra complex.

Not one of his better works. But neither was _Hell Hath No Fury_, or _Flowers For Your Grave_. Why was the killer picking such amateur works?

As soon as her body was out, laid, still facedown over a sheet of plastic, a petite medical examiner went to work. Castle hadn't even realized it, but he had moved ever closer, observing every careful measure she took to the woman's wet, pale limbs.

"Hi," he held out his hand with a smile, "Richard Castle."

"Lanie Parish," she peeled one blue glove off of her hand for him to shake. "Nice to meet you Mr. Castle. I've heard I'll be seeing you around."

"Ah, so the gossip is spreading?"

"No, you happen to be following my best friend." She did not sound at all amused by his presence.

"You?" He looked at her, stunned, "And Beckett?"

"Yeah, she's my best friend, there a problem with that?"

Oh, he liked Lanie. She had a kick to her that a lot of women didn't. He could see why she was friends with Beckett.

"Not at all. I-"

"I told you to stay over there." Beckett's scowling face appeared at his left while Lanie smirked in front of them.

"I got lonely."

She chewed on her lip, staring him down. He could imagine the barrage of expletives that she was probably trying to hold in. Before he could get another word out her attention shifted to her friend.

"You got a COD?"

"Not until a full exam, but this wasn't a stabbing."

Castle opened his mouth to contribute this thoughts, but the instant Beckett saw him she figured him out, and stared him down.

Damn, was her stare intimidating.

One of the officers called from behind them and she flipped, nearly throwing him off balance. "Beckett?" The officer eyed him up and down, apparently displeased by his presence. He heard Beckett sigh, equally displeased by…probably everything, before she went over to see what he wanted.

She spun on her heel almost instantly, coming back toward him with a determined air about her. "Let's go, Castle."

"What? Go where."

"We've got an ID on the prints from the letter. Kyle Cabot, he's in Brooklyn. We've got him."

* * *

><p>As soon as the words had left her mouth earlier, a cocktail of excitement, hope, and relief bloomed in his chest. The idea that they had finally caught the bastard who ripped his imagination to murder real people - real people with lives and families and reams - it had been too incredible. He had followed, though he was told not to, when they found the hole and the wall of – him.<p>

Because that's what it had been, a wall completely plastered with his face and his books and articles. Technically he didn't have a stalker, because nothing had happened to him. But Rick couldn't possibly think it was any better when horrible things happened to other people because of him.

But standing behind the glass, he didn't think they had it right at all. The kid who sat at the metal table couldn't possibly be a killer. Kyle shook, shuddered, swaying lightly from side to side, with his arms wrapped tightly around his skinny frame. His face was empty, devoid of any sense of deviousness, or any sense of knowledge of what was happening around him.

"This just can't be right," he said. "This guy couldn't have committed any of those murders, it- it just doesn't make any sense."

"Well, what do you want Castle?" The Captain spoke up beside him, "He's got connection to all three of our victims, and we found the evidence in his apartment. There's nothing else we can do."

The man stopped speaking when the door clicked to Beckett's entrance. Montgomery turned to her, "Call the DA. Get him a legal aid."

"How? I mean-" he rushed to Beckett, catching her arm before she could leave the room. She stiffened at the touch, "I," he dropped his hand, not missing her quick step backward, "It's too easy. The reader would never buy it." The words flew out in a rush, whether covering his touch, or questioning Kyle's arrest? Either way.

"This isn't one of your books, Castle. Around here, if we find a guy standing over a dead body with a gun, he's usually the one who did it."

As soon as she finished she was gone, leaving him standing behind, completely displeased that he was questioning the justice system.

* * *

><p>When she walked into the precinct the next morning he was sitting at her desk, eyes roaming over every file and sheet of paper she has. The bastard. Who did he think he was?<p>

"What are you doing?" She barked, clutching her belongings to her desk.

"Sorry," he jumps, "writer's habit. Reading people's notes, rifling through their medicine cabinets." He shut up when he caught the look of discomfort and anger on her face. A puff of air blew out, as he stood, more reserved and professional. "I just wanted to give you this. To memorialize our, brief partnership."

With an inner shudder Kate shook herself from her anger and took the box he was trying to slide into her hands. She popped the lid off, and looked with what she feared was childish awe at the crisp, shiny copy of Storm Fall inside. It took quite a bit of self-control to keep her fingers from trembling as she lifted the cover, wrapped in the trademark glossy-print sleeve.

He had signed it! Richard Castle had signed an advance copy of his latest novel for _her_.

Seriously?

Thankfully, she managed to find her voice somehow, even though it came out soft and tight. "Thanks. That was…sweet."

She nodded, pinching her lips together, waiting for him to say something. Instead, he just, looked at her. She couldn't decide if it was weird, or creepy, or….amazing, that Richard Castle was just staring at her.

"It was nice to meet you, Detective Beckett."

Still trying to figure out how she felt about all this, she could only nod, gripping the book like a lifeline.

And then he leaned in, kissed her on the cheek, and everything in her body stopped working for a moment. She was pretty sure she had stopped breathing, even.

There was only enough time for her mouth to fall open, only a few, incoherent sounds to tumble out, before he was gone, with his bag and his smirk.

When she regained complete control of her thoughts and her limbs, she took her seat at her desk again.

Richard Castle, one of her most favorite authors had spent the past two days following her around, gave her an early copy of his newest book – even signed it – and kissed her.

On the cheek, sure, but as far as she was concerned, that sure as hell counted.

She smiled, just the tiniest peek of one, and moved to finish the paperwork she had to finish for the case.

Her hand reached to the tray she kept her unfinished work in when she realized it. Things had been moved. Not much, but enough that she noticed. It had always been a sticking point for her that despite her knick-knacks and piles of work and files, her desk would be kept organized. She had a system.

And he screwed with it.

"Oh, he didn't." She huffed, and rifled through everything. Looking for the file she was sure he had tampered with. The file she was just about to finish and sign. What the hell was he thinking? First he messed with her stuff, and then he thought he could get away with it by poorly hiding the file underneath everything else on her desk?

No way, so long as 'Detective' was in front of her name, and an NYPD badge was on her hip, would he get away with this.

Her hands popped the file open as soon as she found it, and sure enough, the pages were out of order, and Kyle Cabot's confession was missing.

That bastard.

* * *

><p>Kate meandered back into holding, finding Castle leaning against a stonewall with his eyes closed. He looked pretty careless, and he probably was, she thought. No, she corrected, clearly he was, or else he wouldn't have stolen federal property.<p>

"Has your hour in the slammer hardened you, Castle?"

He made no effort to move, just eyed her, irritated, from the bench. "Wouldn't you like to know, Beckett?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I'm not pressing any charges and adding this to your oh so colorful criminal past, that was one of the stupidest things you could have ever done."

"Wrong act, right reason. There's no way Kyle's your guy. Just do some background on Pervasive Developmental Disorder. It would have been impossible for him to get those details wrong. There's something else going on here."

"Castle, I told you, not everything works out like a novel. That's the reality. It's why fiction even exists."

He had moved up from the bench to stand in front of her in the opening of the holding cell. "Will you at least think about it? Please. Before you send this kid to prison. Just…take another look at it."

For once in the past twenty-four hours he looked sincere. As sincere as she suspected he could be. It put an uncomfortable twinge in her side. "Fine, I won't file the paperwork yet. But this doesn't mean you're allowed to be here when I review it. You've caused enough trouble already."

"Fine," he huffed in mimic, "I'll go quietly, but don't think I'm not fully prepared to say 'I told you so'." 

* * *

><p>"You know this is the second time in a week that I've had to come looking for you."<p>

The precinct was dark, only one thin line of light beaming down from the ceiling, a silver fuzz highlighting Kate's desk amongst the company of those left empty for the night. There wasn't a sound aside from the detective's pen tapping against the desktop.

The second Kate heard the voice behind her she scrambled for her cell phone, only to find that it must have died sometime in the last two hours, while she had been scouring every piece of evidence and every file and statement they had.

"I'm, sorry Mom, I just got lost in it. I really didn't mean to skip out on you again."

"Well, I hope not," Johanna practically glided over the dark wood floors of the precinct and around to the desk next to her daughters. In passing, she cautiously eyeing the case up on the white board, taking a brief mental note of the images and multi-colored markered details. "Not that you could skip out on me if you tried, you know I'd hunt you down."

"Please," Kate scoffed, "Mom, I'm a detective. If I really wanted to go into hiding, I'd know how."

"Trust me, Katie. One day, when you're a mother, you'll understand that it doesn't matter where you go, a mother will always find her child." She dropped a kiss on Kate's head, rolling over a chair next to her. "So what's the story with this one? I thought you solved it."

"I thought so, too." Kate shook her head. "But I'm starting to think Castle had a point."

"Castle, huh?" The lawyer quirked an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair, the lightest of laughs in her tone. "When you called me yesterday you said you weren't going to let him get to you."

Kate's head snapped, not amused by her mother's own clear amusement. Her face slacked. Yeah, she had said that when she checked in with her yesterday morning – before discovering that Castle was also a thief, amongst other things. This had nothing to do with him.

"He didn't get to me." Being argumentative probably wouldn't get her very far. But she could at least put up a front. She nodded to the board, to the faces staring down at them, the victims. Allison Tisdale's photo in the middle, young, beautiful, so much promise – all ended too soon. And for what reason? "She did."

"Who is she? Tell me about her." Johanna watched as her daughter rattled off the details of the case, who the victims were how they were found, how much Castle had been irritating her with his persistent theories and complaining. "He really bothers you, doesn't he?"

"Castle?" Kate looked at her mother, curious as to why that was even relevant to her case. "He's a child. Mom, he stole parts of my file. He thinks this is…fun."

"And it's not."

"Of course it's not! It's a murder investigation. There are three people whose families won't see them again, and he thinks it's a game. Like he can just throw around stories to explain things, as if he knows what he's doing. He writes _fiction_! There's a process, and we can't just assume anything or make facts up."

Johanna reached out tentatively, resting her hand on her daughter's. She recognized that tone, which often peeked through whenever Kate was particularly frustrated with a case or with people in general. "Katie, this isn't about your father."

She stiffened, an unfortunate reaction that she sometimes had trouble controlling, even still. "No! I know this isn't about dad." She sighed, the breath felt far heavier than it should have. "I just…I need to know the right answer. I can't send this kid to prison if he really didn't do it. And for hours I've been sitting here trying to think of the solution, but nothing makes any sense."

"Like you said Katie, he writes fiction. Writing a story is how he thinks. You think in more of a straight line, without all those twists and tangents that he has in his book." She offered a sympathetic smile, running a hand across Kate's back. "Maybe you need to look at it from a different angle." Johanna dropped the containers back into the bag, settling back into the chair next to Kate, the two still sitting in the precinct, staring at the board. "Try looking at it from your victims' perspectives rather than your suspect. What about Allison? What could she have done to make him want to kill her?"

"Absolutely nothing," Kate didn't even hesitate, "unless you count her getting him a job, on stable meds, better living space."

"And the others? Marvin and Kendra?"

"A customer and a waitress. All he did was clean up. He _may_ have interacted with Kendra, but I can't imagine why he would have ever spoken to Marvin. He has a personality disorder that makes him isolate himself from anyone else." She shook her head, ran her hands over her face. "I told you, it doesn't make sense."

"Okay." The older Beckett woman nodded, "how about we try this? Who _would have_ wanted any of them dead? She's Jonathan Tisdale's daughter, right?"

"Yes," she thumbed through Allison's case file, skimming over the important details, trying to think of something that just felt logical. "But she wasn't really involved with him, or his business interests. She worked in a completely different area, and except for her apartment and furniture, we can't find anything suggesting that she wasn't perfectly self-sufficient."

"You know I actually saw Jonathan Tisdale the other day?" She stood from her seat, stretching her legs as she paced a bit in front of Kate.

"Really? Where?"

"Some power luncheon that I had to go to for the firm. One of the partners was gunning to take on his company as a client, so we were trying to impress him, but he was totally uninterested. Said he doesn't know where the future of the company is going…"

"What?" Just as Johanna knew Kate, Kate knew Johanna, and she heard the intrigue in her voice as it trailed off.

"He didn't look- well, he didn't look _well_. And he seemed worried about what would happen to the company if he changed anything, something about not trusting his son."

The thought hadn't even occurred to Kate, that maybe this wasn't about Kyle, at all. After all, why would the murders be so sporadic and irrational? Kyle's disorder would not allow him to do things without reason, and he was focused on, and obsessed with Castle's books. If he was going to copy the murders he would have copied them exactly. The details would have been identical.

"From a legal perspective, what would happen to the company if something happens to Jonathan?"

"You mean like, if he dies?"

"Well yeah," Kate shrugged, "you said he didn't look well. And it's not like he has partners, he's the big-wig."

Johanna leaned against the edge of the board, not unlike the way Kate often did. "I suppose it's likely that his assets would be divided between his children."

"And now that Allison's dead, that leaves his son to inherit it all."

"Probably, yes." She paused, contemplating the legal possibilities and details, thinking back over the subtle insecurity she saw in the senior Tisdale only days earlier. "But, you need to solidify that. Jonathan could have any number of plans for his company and his money if he dies."

Kate turned back to her desk, waking up her sleeping computer to pull the right documents she'd need to get a search warrant. "Really, Mom?" She smirked and hummed, "Who do you think I am? Castle?" After sending pages to print she hit the speed dial on her phone, "Esposito? Yeah, I need you to come in, I want to take a look at Harrison Tisdale's financials."

Johanna took her seat again. She was thoroughly pleased that Kate was back on track, thinking clearly and confident, like the detective she knew she was. 

* * *

><p>With Harrison Tisdale shoved into the back of a police cruiser, the messiest of the messy work was done. Kate watched as Esposito pulled out into the street and away. The case was finally over. Jonathan Tisdale would be torn apart, sure, but at least he had answers. Answers mattered.<p>

And maybe Kyle Cabot would get good new social worker. Someone like Allison, she could only hope. The poor kid was just a pawn in Harrison's selfish scheme to get after a bigger inheritance.

It was the hope that kept her going. The hope that at least some good would come from putting a killer behind bars. Not just justice for the victim, but someone else's safety, closure, relief. Just the hope in humanity.

A faint smile graced her face as she turned and found Castle standing waiting for her.

"Well, I guess this is it." She folded her arms across her chest, taking in the way he was so enjoying watching the police proceedings going on behind her.

"You know, it doesn't have to be. We could…go to dinner. Debrief each other?"

"Why Castle?" She quirked, "So I can be another one of your, conquests?" Her voice teased over the words, he just itched to know more of her.

"Or, I could be one of yours?" A childish smile spread on his face, as he twisted his fingers around each other where they rested in front of him. Did she really make him nervous? He felt like he was seventeen again. "Or," his tone grew more serious, yet gentle and tentative, "we could just go for some coffee? My treat. For, annoying you so much."

Kate looked at the man who stood before her. Richard Castle. World-famous mystery novelist. He was an overgrown child, honestly. But, there he stood, looking like someone who genuinely just wanted to be nice. And her mother was always telling her to be more open to people.

Her lip caught between her teeth as she thought. Why not?

"I get off at six. Can I meet you somewhere?"

"Of course not, Detective. My mother taught me well enough. A gentleman picks up his date."

"Then I guess I'll see you later."

"You don't need me to come back with you? Fill out a statement or anything?" He looked all too excited at the idea of being involved in an investigation, in a more…legal capacity.

"No, Castle, I've got it covered. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork to get done before I can take off, so-"

"I'll pick you up at six."

She nodded once, "yeah." Kate turned and began to walk away, slinging her jacket over her shoulder. "Oh, and Castle?" His head perked up and he tried his best to cover the way he wasn't watching her walk. "It's not a date."

Before he could think of a proper rebuttal she had turned back and was walking away. That sway in her hips all too enticing. Something about this woman had his head swimming.

He hadn't felt that way in a long time.

Yeah, he shrugged, as he turned in the warm afternoon sun of New York. Sure, it wasn't a date.

* * *

><p><em>Be ready! Next chapter? My brain takes over and we go down a totally different path from the show! Hope you want to stick along for the ride!<em>

_Thanks so much for everyone who's been reading and reviewing! You're all awesome!_

_**Tappin**_

_=)_


	6. The Changes

_So, I'm always crazy nervous about posting this, but my beta is always really great at reassuring me. Thanks to _**HeatXWave10 **for dealing with my neuroticness. __

__Enjoy!  
><em>_

* * *

><p>The temperature had dipped down by the time Kate finished with Tisdale's interrogation and booking, and had all the paperwork filed and ready to go. When she stepped outside she had to pull her blazer just a bit tighter to brace against the breeze that had come in from nowhere. She pulled her bag further up on her shoulder, considerably lighter now that the case was closed and she had the next eighteen hours off. Her boots thumped against the cement stoop as she descended, looking around.<p>

And there he was.

Castle was leaning up against a streetlight's pole, his eyes trained on the street, watching the cars and people pass by. He had changed, she noticed, from the shirt and jacket he had gotten dirty in the takedown – and _that_ was something they'd have to talk about – and into a white button down and a black jacket. If she had to guess he'd probably taken a shower, because his hair was more neatly combed now and he looked shaven.

"I told you this isn't a date, Castle."

His head snapped when she made herself known at his side. "I'm not allowed to look nice for a beautiful woman?"

"Castle." She stared. He shut his mouth.

"Would you rather I lie? Come on," he grabbed her elbow to face her in the right direction but dropped his hand immediately when she drew it closer to her side. "Come on," he repeated, pointing up the block, "just a little down this way."

The Starbucks he took her to just happened to be _her_ Starbucks. She'd come in so often that the baristas pretty much all knew her name and what she preferred to order, and even exactly how hot she took her coffee. "Good pick. You want to order? I'll get a table." She offered.

The place was practically empty, being so late in the day, but she had already moved to take a table near the window before he could rebut. "How do I know what you want?" He called after her.

She smiled at the girl at the counter as she pulled out a chair from the table. "Don't worry about it Castle, just order."

In minutes he had returned, two coffees and brownies in hand. "So, I take it you're here often, since your drink was half done by the time I got to the register."

She hummed, "Mhmm. I'm in here about twice a week. More if I don't have time to make my own coffee in the morning."

"Detective Katherine Beckett, coffee junkie. Who would've thought?"

"Ask just about any cop in New York, Castle. Most of us are coffee junkies."

"Good to know." He mused, he watched as she turned her coffee cup back and forth against the table before picking it up and taking a long swallow of the liquid. When she looked up she did not look at all pleased with him.

"You know you could've gotten yourself killed back there? In the alley?"

"Yeah, but I didn't." He argued.

"For all you knew, Tisdale could've been a pro with that gun." The anger seeped through her tone, her face a tight display of her frustration with him.

"Really? Are you kidding me?" He laughed, "At most he knew which end of the thing to hold."

"That's not the point. You put yourself, and me, in an unsafe situation. I was responsible for you."

"Yes," he sighed, looking down into his cup, "yes, I realize that, and I'm sorry. I just… couldn't think of anything else to do but go after him."

She took a look at his face, how he sat just a little more upright in the chair. "I didn't know you could actually be mature, Castle."

He smirked, "I have my moments. Not everything the press says about me is true, I can be an adult, and I can be a gentleman." Their eyes met and he read perfectly the fact that she was reading him right back. "Look Detective Beckett, I know when to shut up. I just…don't always pay attention to what I know."

"So I've seen," She ripped off the corner of one of the brownies, savored the rich, chocolaty goodness. The man just happened to pick the one thing in the display case that would be her undoing. She was a sucker for chocolate. Just as she reached to pinch off more of her treat she realized there was one gaping hole in the whole alley scenario. "Hey, I cuffed you to the car. How the hell did you get out?"

"I know a guy."

"You know a guy? Really? A guy who just happened to what? Be strolling by just as Harrison Tisdale climbed out of the window?"

"No, I know a guy who got me a spare key, which I'm now keeping in my wallet."

"Why, Castle, are you foreseeing getting arrested again in the near future?"

"You never know." He sipped from his coffee while his eyes remained trained on her, soft but still with a hit of the playful, but somehow cocky attitude that she still had a hard time pinpointing exactly. "Though I'm not sure Alexis was too keen on having to come bail me out. Might not be smart to have to make her do that again."

Kate nodded, thinking of the young redheaded girl who came to the precinct, far too mature for her age, she was sure. "Yes, your daughter. Another reason to act like an adult every now and then."

"True. But Alexis is probably more of an adult than even you, if that's even fathomable."

Well with a father like Richard Castle, she'd have to be mature, the detective thought. "How old is she?"

"Fifteen."

"And it's just her?"

He hummed, a silly, loving smile adorning his face. "Just the two of us. And, my mother if you really want to get technical."

"No siblings?"

"Nope. Not a one." He took a short breath before tossing the question right back at her. "You?"

"Just me. Though I always did ask for a baby brother when I was younger."

"Oh god no! Your non-existent brother should be thankful he's non-existent! You'd have tortured the poor kid!"

"How do you know that?" She challenged, offended by his insinuation that she wouldn't have been a good big sister.

"Well if the past three days are any indication…"

"Hey, I'll have you know I was a wonderful child. Whereas you, I'm sure, were causing trouble all over the place."

"I hate to tell you this Beckett, but that's what most little boys do."

"See? All the more reason for me to have kept a little brother in line."

"I'd love to know what you were like as an angry little girl. You don't seem like the temper-tantrum type, but I bet you were damn good at the silent treatment. Huffing and staring with your little arms crossed tightly over your chest." He laughed when she glared at him. "See? You're still good at it. You should patent that look."

"Shut up, Castle."

His left eyebrow lifted, as he was clearly sure of his assumption. Thankfully he diverted his eyes from her to check his cell phone, allowing Kate to let out a heavy breath. She could practically feel the weight pressing on her shoulder blades. She let her eyes slip closed and slowed her breath, telling herself to back off and relax.

She was enjoying her last bite of moist chocolate goodness when he spoke up. This time his voice reserved and soft.

"How could Harrison murder his sister?" His finger was idly tracing the edge of the plastic lid on the cup of coffee.

She couldn't help her shrug, though she completely understood his rookie reaction to familial murder. "Sometimes people crack. And money can be a pretty tempting evil. Especially to someone whose father never saw him as good as his older sister."

"But still, his sister? That's cold, no- that's lower than cold, that's sleazy, and disgusting, and just, nefarious."

"Got anymore adjectives for me?"

"If you really want them."

"No," she nodded, "that's okay, I think I'm good."

He shook his head, still clearly bothered by the resolution of the case. "It's just senseless. You have a sibling, you're supposed to love them. Grow up together, play with them. Not kill them for some damn inheritance money."

"And I agree, Castle. But sometimes that happy ending just doesn't happen. The best we can do is exactly what we did. Harrison's going away for a long time. He'll pay for what he did to his sister and those two other people, too. You can't let it get you down on the entire human race."

"But I can brood through the rest of this coffee, right?" He held up his cardboard cup to let her see the small amount of the drink that was even left.

She lifted hers as well, noticing that she had even less than him left to drink. "I think that's a good plan." She smiled when he did, the understanding just hovering over their little round table.

"Don't you have a hard time doing this for a living?"

"Don't you have a hard time writing about it for a living?"

"Touché," he cocked his head, quirking his eyebrow. "So what do you do when you're not catching the murdering scum of New York?"

"Why, Castle? Is my personal life really that appealing to you?" A teasing laugh tripped off her tongue.

"_You_ are. I want to know more about you. You intrigue me, Kate."

Well, she thought, at least he went right to the point. No colorful, flowery language there. And the use of her first name, not 'Beckett' or 'Detective', didn't go unnoticed. "Really, Castle. I'm not all that interesting."

"Oh but you are." He leaned over the table, folding his hands together. He didn't take his eyes off of her as he described his reasoning. "The way your lips pinch together when you're thinking about something too hard, how your eyes don't divert for anything when you're trying to figure me out, your dedication, the way you so obviously care. How can I not be interested in you?"

She didn't dare look away, she had to back her point. "I told you this isn't a date."

"It doesn't have to be. You'd be this astounding regardless of the category of this coffee order."

"'Astounding', huh? That's some pretty flattering wording, Mr. Castle."

"It's not flattery. It's the truth. Though if you are flattered, I'm happy to take the credit."

She smiled, fighting back the urge she had to shove him down and leave the shop. But no one had seemed at all interested in her in a long time. And the last time hadn't ended so well either. What was wrong with accepting a man's complements?

"Um- Thank you. I think." The words sounded so immature coming out of her mouth. But she truly didn't know what to do about it. "I'm really not sure what I should say to that."

"Don't-" he sighed, briefly, his lips twitching for the right way to say what was on his mind, "don't say anything. Just, let me take you out again sometime?"

"I'm not going on a date with you, Castle."

"Then coffee again. Simple, just so we can talk again." He held up a hand to her when she opened her mouth to argue. "Just think about it." Castle pushed away from the table, his chair grating against the coarse tile of the floor, sending a shiver down her spine. He gathered his coffee cup and the now empty plate with a ghost of a smile on his face, "I'm sure my number's on file somewhere."

Before she could think of a response he was gone.

* * *

><p>Kate flopped backwards over the arm of her couch with her phone pressed to her ear.<p>

"_So, basically what you're telling me is he asked you out._"

"I think so?" She squinted up at her ceiling as she mentally debated with herself exactly what had happened in the coffee shop earlier that evening.

"_Well, what did you tell him?"_

"I told him I wasn't going out on a date with him."

"_Why would you do that? He's Richard Castle, and clearly he likes you."_ The excited tone in her mother's voice served only to make Kate more frustrated.

"Which is exactly why I told him no, Mom. Coffee this once was okay, but I don't want to perpetuate the idea that he can get whatever girl he wants just by being a charming novelist." She was talking with her free hand sticking out above her, even though no one could see the motions.

"_Sounds to me like he was more brutally honest than charming."_

"Really, he's not serious." She huffed, "It's just something new and fun, and he'll be over it in a week."

"You don't know that, Katie. Come on! Give the guy a chance."

"Mom! Were you not listening when I told you about his file?"

"I was. And by the way, I'm pretty sure that's a federal offence. To share someone's criminal record."

"Please, you're not going to tell anyone."

"And you're so sure about that? You seem to be quick to judge people these days."

Kate blew out a huff, frustrated with the turn of the conversation, she really just wanted to vent and her mother was turning it into a life lesson. "Fine. I'll think about it. But I'm not making _any_ promises."

"Katie," Johanna sighed, "just think about it as if he were any other guy. What would you do?"

"I'd think about it."

"And what if he's genuinely being a nice guy and just wants to get to know you better. He didn't ask you to marry him next week, he just wants to talk."

"Mom-"

"Don't 'Mom' me. Just…think about it. Call him or don't. But don't let rumors and prejudices cloud your judgment."

"You know, sometimes it really sucks that you're a lawyer."

"For you," Kate could practically hear her mother's smirk on the other end of the call. "Listen, I have to get to bed, I'll talk to you soon, alright?"

"Mhmm." Kate rolled off of her couch with a grunt, knowing full well that she too had to get to work early the next morning. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, Katie. Goodnight."

"Night."

Kate depressed the 'end' button on her phone as she dragged herself into her bedroom. Her mother had a point, but she was 'thinking about it'. She wasn't committing to anything that she didn't have to yet.

And maybe she was right, she contemplated during her shower. Maybe Castle was just trying to be a nice guy. Maybe he really did just want to talk and learn more about what she did every day. No other man she'd ever known really cared.

But then why did he have to have such a cocky attitude?

There were too many contradictory points for her to consider half-awake. She just wanted – needed – to sleep, get a fresh start the next day. His number would be sitting in his police file if she magically came to a decision.

Instead of thinking about it anymore, she pushed anything related to the writer from her mind, even avoiding her bookcase and the shelf that housed her collection of his novels.

It was just too much.

She turned on her television to some mindless late night sit-com reruns, just something to fill the silence, and curled up in her warm, non-opinionated bed.

* * *

><p>When she walked into the precinct the next morning she strode thorough with her usual confidence and a feeling of complete satisfaction. The nine hours of sleep she somehow managed to get had done wonders and she felt completely recharged. The weather was perfect today, not a cloud in the sky, and she had even been so lucky as to get the perfect parking spot in the garage.<p>

Over breakfast she had contemplated her 'situation' with Castle. She considered the options: call him or ignore him, and the consequences of taking either of those options. Neither held the greatest appeal on its own.

But by the time she had finished her waffles and coffee she had figured it out.

She was going to give it a week. A week for Castle to either move on or man up. She figured he was probably the kind of man to make a statement if he really wanted something, and if he really wanted her, he would figure something out.

She dropped her bag on her desk, picking up on how quiet it was in the precinct – which was unusual – and pulled out the files she needed to take to Records. But before she could sit down to work the Captain leaned his head out of his office.

"Beckett. Can I have a word?"

Kate nodded and rolled away from her desk, stepped into his office wondering what he could want to discuss. The Tisdale case was closed, and as far as she knew all the charges processed with no problems.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, hands clasped behind her back as she waited for Montgomery to speak. "Sir?"

"I just got a call from the mayor's office. Apparently," he stood still waiting for her to step closer to his desk, "you have a fan."

"A fan, sir?" She cocked her head, squinted, totally thrown and confused.

"Rick Castle. Seems he's found a character for a new set of novels, a tough but savvy female Detective."

She shook her head, tried to figure out exactly what sort of dent this put in her decision. "I'm flattered?"

"Don't be," he settled back into his own chair and eyed her with a look that told Kate he knew _something_. Something she wasn't going to like. "Says he has to do 'research'."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"No way."

"Beckett, listen-"

"Sir, he's like a nine year-old on a sugar rush, totally incapable of taking anything seriously."

He stopped her as the words tumbled out of her mouth. "But he did help you solve this case."

She turned away with a leer, decidedly, definitely irritated.

"And when the mayor's happy, the commissioner's happy, and when the commissioner's happy," he grinned, "I'm happy."

She tried not to gnaw through her tongue when she looked back up at him. "How long, Sir?"

"Well, that's up to him." He nodded behind her, toward the door to his office.

The detective flipped, her mouth falling open at the sight of _him_ leaning against the doorframe. She didn't give either man in a chance to add to the 'conversation', before grabbing the writer's arm and hauling him into an empty hallway.

She was more than shocked, angry. She was infuriated at the smug arrogance he exuded. Just when she thought she knew what she was going to do about him, he pulled another stunt.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She stabbed her finger into her chest.

"I, just wanted to work with you a bit more. Like I said, I want to know more about you." He could only stand there as he tried to do his best to defend himself.

"So, you couldn't just have waited to see if I was going to take you up on your offer for coffee? You had to go completely above my head and stalk me at work. This is my _job_ Castle!"

"Yes, I know it's your job," he threw back, completely prepared to fight her on this. "It's your job, and you're good at it, and you've…. inspired me."

She took a step back, looked at him with analytical eyes. When she had finally looked him up and down, unsuccessful at figuring out just what it was he was up to, she adjusted her footing and folded her arms across her chest. "I've 'inspired' you?"

"Yes. And I've never written a female Detective before, not as a lead character, and I want to do her justice. And since you're the one who sparked this, I want to shadow you."

Kate thought for a moment. How bad could it be? Well, she thought, it could be completely horrible. Or not at all. The man was too damn unpredictable. And it made her feel like a horrible detective because she couldn't read him.

"Fine." She huffed, getting ready to leave. "How long?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. I haven't exactly come up with a structured outline for one book, let alone a series."

Her foot tapped, irritated pecks against the precinct floor. "I could shoot you for this."

"But," he tried smiling, "you won't, because then you'd have a bigger problem than me following you around with a notebook." He tried to lighten the mood, to no avail. "Let me ask you something."

"What?" she barked.

"Can I ask you out again, and still work with you?"

She scoffed, turned away from him, marching back out into the bullpen. "Shut up, Castle."

He had to run a few steps to catch up with her, speaking up again once she had sat down at her desk, he in a chair he had pulled up beside it earlier in the week.

"You can't really shoot me, can you?"

* * *

><p><em>If you read my other fic (Through Thick And Thin), you'll remember that I have mid-terms next week. Which basically means as soon as this is posted I'm going into a study cave of international relations, american history, public speaking, and writing for broadcast news for the next week. But then I have spring break! So, hopefully I'll be able to update a couple things then. <em>

__I'm looking forward to when I have time to work on this more. _Thanks SO SO SO much to everyone who's been enjoying this and sticking with me! You're great! _

_Let me know what you think!_

**_Tappin  
>=) <em>**


	7. The Start

_This poor story. I've been having such a hard time with it. But I WILL see it through to the end, because I do have it all planned out. Probably not till after my finals though, in two weeks. _

_Thanks to my beta, HeatXWave10, __who still puts up with me, somehow!_

_To anyone who's still here, thank you, and I'm sorry I've been having better luck with one-shots and other pieces than this.  
><em>

* * *

><p>The first time he walked into the precinct – after spending an entire day in meetings and filling out paperwork – he was the focus of many an officer's eye. Who knew police officers were so nosy? All he did was come off the elevator and stand beside Kate's desk. <em>Everyone<em>, was watching him.

He was used to being watched. Being fawned over and ogled, and managed. But this was completely different. They were all just…watching. As if he were going to do tricks for them.

Castle stood as patiently as he knew how to next to her desk. The precinct was blanketed in an odd state of calm, one that he thought couldn't possibly be normal for a precinct with officers, guns, and criminals. It was cool, he noticed, and a lot brighter than police stations usually looked on NYPD Blue and less tech-y than on CSI. He hadn't really gotten a chance to take a look around while he was being questioned…then arrested.

Kate – Detective Beckett's desk looked like _her_, he figured. Everything was in order, lined up perfectly. Just one picture frame on her desk. Her and her parents. He leaned in just close enough to guess that she must have been home from college, for Christmas, judging by the red sweaters and pair of ice skates tied together, dangling from her hand. She looked just like her mother.

The click of her heels preceded her voice across the bullpen. "You're early, Castle."

He straightened up, smiling at her. "You told me to be here at eight o'clock. I figured it was wiser to be five minutes early, than five minutes late."

"Smart man." She nodded and set her coffee mug down on her desk.

"Is that a compliment?"

"Don't push it," she squinted at him.

Castle shoved his hands into his pockets and idly turned back and forth in his spot. "So, where do you want me?"

"Preferably? Not here. But," she kept going despite his attempt to protest, "seeing as I have no choice, grab a chair from the break room. You can put it there."

He started his move to the break room, doubling back for a brief second, "Oh, and I'm going to make coffee real quick while I'm in there. Have a feeling I'm gonna need it."

Kate watched him go with a displeased nod and moved around to sit at her desk. _Her_ desk, and now she had to share it. She thumbed through the short stack of forms sitting in her inbox. Nothing glaringly important that she needed to handle immediately. She tapped the space bar on her keyboard and her monitor flashed back to life. No new emails, no returns from Forensics on the tests she was waiting on for a cold case. She opened a fresh game of solitaire to occupy her mind while she waited for Castle to come back. She spoke up as she double-clicked the Ace of Spades to its place on the side.

"What do you want Esposito?"

"Apparently I missed when you caved and decided to let him come back."

She looked up, frustrated. Her hand combed through the chop of her hair, "I didn't cave, I was forced." Her eyes rolled back in her head as she leaned back, stretching the spring of her chair. "He's friends with the Mayor, and you know how the chain works."

"Happy Mayor, Happy Captain."

"Yup," she popped.

"So…what? He's just going to follow you around? Sounds kind of boring for him."

"Not my problem," she huffed. "Well, actually it _is_ my problem, because I have to put up with him."

Esposito let out a mocking laugh. "Well maybe you're just really that exciting."

"So he says," she said, voice flat, "and I have no idea how long we're stuck with him."

"Well," he shrugged, "gonna be interesting then, isn't it?"

"Sure," she rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer to close her virtual card game. She beat it every time anyway. "Don't you have work do to?"

He turned to look over his shoulder, and nodded his head to where Castle was fumbling with their ancient coffee maker. "Have fun with him." He tuned and walked back to his desk, leaving her to watch in irritation. She stared off, just thinking about how hellish it would be, having to put up with him, and order him around, and make sure he didn't get himself, or her – or someone else – killed. At least she did get the satisfaction of being in charge. That had been her sticking point – he didn't get free-reign over the precinct and her cases, and had to listen to what she said.

It was the thinnest silver lining she could possibly imagine.

"Just so you know, I'm definitely going to be buying us a new coffee machine. Something that makes actual coffee, not…. this." He held the paper cup out in front of him as if it had some sort of disease.

Kate leaned forward over her desk, whispered, as she motioned around the bullpen. "_We_, the officers, do not need a new coffee machine. The one that we have works perfectly fine. If _you_ on the other hand, require something of a higher quality, you're welcome to get your coffee elsewhere."

His eyes moved up and down, trying to read her face, and ultimately pissing her off, "No," he leaned back and took a sip of his coffee with a wince, "if this is what you guys want to drink, I can learn to love it."

She could only nod, not knowing what else to possibly say, since he seemed to have an answer for everything. "Well, why don't you put some of that devotion to sitting there quietly? I have paperwork."

"We don't have a case?"

Her pen froze at the start of the 'K' of her name, and she glared at him from the corner of her eyes. "No. _We_ do not have a case. No one has been killed in the last three hours since I've been on-shift, and you might want to get better at hiding the fact that that upsets you. We don't hope for murders. We just solve them."

"Got it."

He stayed quiet for the next half hour while she worked on filing out forms and follow up statements from previous cases. She could tell he was bored, though, by the fact that he tapped his feet against the wood in nonsense rhythms that had no steady beat or pattern.

"Having fun, Castle?"

He sighed. "Really? This is all you do all day?"

She dropped her pen and turned her chair to face him. "If I'm not working on a case, yes. This is pretty much, all I do all day." She gave a flourishing wave of her hand over her desk, showing the covered top of her desk as Vanna White would letters. "Occasionally I help other detectives with their cases. Meetings sometimes, though I imagine they're much less glamorous than yours."

"Hmm," he leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "Gonna have to edit that for the book…."

Kate rolled her eyes and turned back to her paperwork. She had gotten two more forms filled out before he spoke again.

"Does it really bother you _that_ much that I'm here?"

She paused, not looking up. "What?"

"I mean, it was nice before. We had a relatively decent time the other day and now you act like I'm just another criminal."

The detective sighed, pushed her chair away from her desk. "I don't think you're a criminal, Castle." Her lip found its way between her teeth as she thought. "Come on," she cocked her head to the stairs, "there's something you need to see."

She led him to the stairs, and down three floors, into the basement, around a corner, and through a chain link door to a room lined with industrial metal shelving, housing dozens upon dozens of cardboard file boxes. He stepped ahead of her to read their labels.

Fingers slid along the paper labels as his eyes took in the information. "Are these case numbers?"

"Yes," she reached around him, pulling down a box. "This is the records room. Where all our cases go once they leave our white boards."

He followed after her when she moved to a table set up at the end of the aisle of boxes. "All of them?" He sounded amazed.

Exactly what she had hoped for. The realization.

"Well, if a case file turns out to be related to a case in another jurisdiction it gets transferred, but pretty much, yeah. This is nearly every case that's passed through the 12th." She popped the lid of the box off and skipped her fingers over the file labels, thinking back before picking one to pull out. She simply held out the file for him to see. The young woman's face beamed up at them, full of promise and happiness, dressed in her college softball uniform. "This is Rebecca Broderick. She was twenty-one when she was killed. A TA at the school tried to get her to sleep with him in exchange for good lab grades. She refused and he got angry. She left behind an older brother and her grandmother who they had been taking care of."

Kate can hear his gulp of air beside her. Carefully she replaces Rebecca's file and pulled out another. This one hosting a photo of an older gentleman. "Michael Clarke. Stabbed in a bar fight he was trying to help break up. It was his bar," she told him. Michael's file went back in the box and Kate's hand hesitated over the last file in the box. With a long swallow, she slowly pulls it out and hands it to him.

His eyes met hers for a beat before looking down at the picture on the file, and it hits him.

How important her job is.

"Jackson Spencer. He was four years old."

"How-?" He paused, "How did he die?"

She watched as he hesitated, fingers poised over the edge of the thick folder, unable to open it. "His parents accumulated a lot of debt. His father went to…more, risky sources for a loan since no bank would give them one, and when they couldn't pay back the money on time…" she stopped, needing the break to take a breath, "he was taken."

Castle looks to her, a sad, understanding look in his eyes.

"And," she whispers, "he wasn't found in time."

"Kate," he started to speak, but unable to find words, could only hand the folder back to her, one last lingering look at the bright eyed little boy who probably never even learned to read on his own.

She took the file without a word, set it back into the box, and moved to replace the box in its place on the shelf. A thin layer of dust blew off of her hands when she brushed them on her pants legs. "Look Castle," she met his eyes, "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, or depress you. But you need to know that this isn't a game. I take my job very seriously, and all of these people," she looked down one of the many aisles of cases, "all of them, matter."

"I understand." He nodded, "and, I'm sorry if I made you think that I don't care, because I do."

She could only return his nod with an air of understanding. "I get that it's hard to be stoic all the time, and I get that the jokes can help us remember not everyone is a heartless killer, but it's important to remember why we do what we do, too."

"You have my word," he moved to leave as she did, "I'll do my best. And feel free to tell me to shut up."

"Don't worry, I will."

* * *

><p>Two nights later, after they closed the Whitman case – a nanny left in a dryer – he sat patiently at her side as she signed the last forms.<p>

"You're pretty quiet over there Castle. Something on your mind?"

"Nothing really." He leaned over, rested his elbow on the edge of her desk. "Just thinking about how good you are at this. I didn't really get the chance to appreciate that before."

"Thanks," she stutters. "I think."

"Anytime."

She capped her pen and organized the papers in her outbox – she could take them to file the next day. Leaning back in her chair she laced her fingers together, tucking them underneath her chin, "So, how's it feel? You've officially helped close a case."

"Mmm," he looks up in thought, "I think," he looked back at her, a small, satisfied smile, "I think it feels as good as it can feel."

She agreed and reached for her bag and jacket. "Let's go, Castle. Why don't you get home to your family?"

He hopped up from 'his' chair and practically skipped to the elevator.

They stood side by side in the car, waiting for it to begin its decent. Castle rocked back and forth on his heels, wondering if there was a rule for what he wanted to do. A prohibition? Would she flat out say 'no'?

"Hey," he turned ever so slightly to her, "can I ask you something?"

She lifted her eyebrows in answer.

"Do you think I could maybe, take you out again? Sometime? Even…just for more coffee?"

He watched her bite her lip, something he had noticed in the past two days she did when she was thinking about something in particular.

She started slowly, tentatively. "Here's the thing, Castle. This is a new…situation. How about we give it just a little bit longer first? Not because I didn't have a good time last week, and not because I don't think you're…a decent guy. Because I did have a good time, and you are kind of a decent guy-"

"Kind of?"

"Just," she exhaled, trying to find the right way to say what she was thinking, "let me think about it?"

For just a beat he doesn't say anything. But then, "Yeah," he nodded, "okay. That's probably a good idea."

The elevator pinged their arrival at the ground floor.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" There was only a small smile on his face as he walked out beside her.

"Yeah." She nodded, "Night Castle."

They parted ways on an odd note, which left Kate thinking of him. She didn't really know how she felt. He proved himself for this one case, but had a long way to go. But he wanted to take her out again?

She shook her head as she reached her car, deciding to leave it alone for the night. If she kept debating with herself Lanie would figure it out, and her mother would figure it out, and the two of them would never leave her alone.

No, it was her…_thing_to deal with.

* * *

><p><em>Thoughts? I realize not too much happened here. More outside-the-precince, actual-AU stuff in the next chapter(s), I promise.<em>

_Tappin_

=)


	8. The Shindig

_Yep, I'm still treking on with this. I'm so thankful for all of you who are still here despite the considerable derailment of my momentum with writing this. I'm honestly surprised, and very appreciative. This story is only 2 reviews away from 100, and it's my second-most favorited story, even. Behind Castle/Beckett speed-dating. It's amazing. I'm working on more, I promise. _

_Also, just because, let's assume Kate has longer hair than season 1. :)_

_Enjoy_

* * *

><p>In the month that Castle had been 'working' at the precinct he had quickly formed an odd, almost brotherly bond with Kate's partners. And it was starting to freak her out a little bit. She leaned back in her chair, trying to focus on the case up on the board, but the chatter emitting from the break room was too distracting.<p>

Castle would make a joke about the coffee or a fan or something similarly annoying, and the boys would laugh. Then Ryan or Esposito would remark something complementary and the laughter roared louder. At least they weren't really causing too much trouble.

She snuck a glance their way before she went back to reading the case notes for the thousandth time. The two detectives actually looked amused, not just putting on a front for the writer. And Castle-

turned to look at her just as she was looking at him.

His smiled changed but didn't fall, redirected specifically at her. She could feel her own thin smile for a beat before she dropped her focus back down to the file.

Her pen tapped an odd cadence against the forms as she thought. He saw her looking. Castle saw her watching him as he joked with Ryan and Esposito. Her cheeks felt warm. That wasn't good. She wasn't spying, so why did it feel so…weird?

After a long breath she schooled her face and stood with her mug and headed to the break room.

Their laughter diminished to chuckles as she stepped through the doorway. "What is this? A police precinct or a playground?"

"Come on, Beckett," Ryan started, "Castle was just telling us about his poker games with Montgomery and the Mayor. Apparently the Captain doesn't exactly have a great poker face."

Castle laughed, shaking his head over his mug of what was passing for coffee. "Took him for a few hundred dollars a few months ago. His wife was _not_ happy. Needless to say we had to institute a cap."

"Really Ryan, you've worked here for how many years and you still haven't noticed that he squints his left eye every time we ask for a raise and he says there's not enough money in the budget? I'm a little ashamed to call you a Detective."

"Nice one, Beckett." Esposito, laughing, high fived her as she stepped up to the coffee maker.

"Hah, hah. Very funny." Ryan droned.

Kate froze the second her feet landed in front of the counter. "This is not our coffee machine." Her fingers tightened around the handle of her mug. She couldn't decide if she was angry or confused. Or thankful?

Castle cleared his throat, "No, it's ah, a better one. One that works and makes coffee that isn't liable to kill you. I just thought that you guys work really hard, and I wanted to thank you, and I know how much you like your coffee and-"

His voice trailed off, the three detectives eyeing him with equally amused gazes, though Beckett seemed a bit more critical. "Relax Castle," she nodded, the smallest of smiles still fighting to stay hidden, "It's…sweet. And," she sighed, "we appreciate it."

His face split with a grin. "Anytime."

They stood, awkwardly staring at each other until one of the boys coughed. Ryan or Esposito? Kate wasn't sure. But it snapped her back to the reality that she was dying for a fresh mug of coffee.

"So, Castle, you gonna show me how to use this thing, or am I supposed to be psychic or something?"

"Oh!" He jumped, "Here."

He took her mug and went about the business of showing the detectives how to use the shiny new espresso machine. Too many buttons and lever sort of things. "Why couldn't you find something with one button for me to press? This is too much Castle."

He took the finished mug from the tray and held it out to her. "Then I guess you'll just have to keep me around to deliver your coffee then, won't you?"

His fingers brushed hers as she went to take the drink from him. Hot and shocking against her own digits. Her breath caught in her chest and her eyes were frozen, focused on the coffee mug stuck between their two grips. "Yeah." Her voice did not sound at all how she wanted it to. She was going for sarcasm. Instead, it sounded soft and truthful. "Guess you'll have to be useful for something, right?" She managed to cover with a laugh, though her legs still felt shaky.

Just when she stepped back her phone vibrated in her pocket, making her jump.

"You okay Beckett?"

"Yeah," she glanced at the screen. Unknown number. "I'm just, gonna go take this."

She held the phone up to her ear as she walked back to her desk with her now fancy coffee. "Beckett."

"_Detective Beckett?"_ Came a young voice on the other end.

"Yes?"

_"Hi. It's Alexis. Castle?"_

She leaned back in her chair, curious as to why the writer's daughter was calling her. "Hey! Are you looking for your dad? He's just in the other room."

_"No. No, I actually had a question for you."_

For her? "Ah, sure. What's up?"

_"Well,"_ she started tentatively,_ "my dad's birthday is coming up, and we're having this party, and I was sort of wondering if you'd want to come?"_

She stiffened, phone at her ear, eyes on him. "Are you sure?"

_"Yeah! I mean, all he talks about these days is you and the other detectives. He's really enjoying himself, and I think it would mean a lot to him if you could come by. Just for a little bit?"_

She chewed on her lower lip as she thought. It wouldn't be too bad. And it sounded like she wanted Ryan and Esposito to come too.

"When is it?"

_"Friday? About seven thirty. Nothing big, just like, appetizers and drinks. Coffee, too. Probably."_

"Tell you what Alexis, if I don't get called in, I'll be there."

_"That's great! He'll love it! Thank you."_

"No problem," she smiled. "I'll see you there."

Kate said goodbye and hung up from the call, drummed her fingers against the edge of her desk. It only took a minute and some thought before she realized she had another call to make. She hit speed dial number four on her phone and only had to wait three rings for her to pick up.

"Lanie? I need some help."

* * *

><p>"You sure you don't like this one?"<p>

Kate looked up from the rack to see Lanie holding up a bright green sequined number, a smug, teasing smile on her face.

"Absolutely not. I told you," she sighed, shoving aside hangers full of 'no' dresses, "Alexis said 'small'. So, nothing…flashy."

Lanie nodded putting the offending garment back on the rack among its equally striking friends. "So, what exactly are we looking for here? You're not going clubbing, clearly it's not black-tie, so, I'm thinking cocktail dress?"

"I guess?" She squinted into a new group of dresses. "I should stick with black, right? Easy?"

"And make that man think you wore your LBD to his birthday? Nuh uh. You save that for later. When you've got him buying you flowers and dinner."

"Lanie," she scolded.

"What?" She sang, "You two would be cute together. Besides, you said you were thinking about it right?" She held up a shimmery yellow number for a moment before shaking her head and putting it back. "Not really your color."

"I don't know. He has these…moments, right? He'll be nice and sweet, and just…decent, you know? But then he does such stupid, childish things and I think I'm being a stupid sixteen year old again." She angrily slid over more dresses, the metal of the store hangars sliding against the rack and clinking together. "Am I being stupid?"

When Kate looked up Lanie was looking down at the rack, pleased, "I think you're over-thinking. You need to relax. And on that note," she held up one finger, poised, "I also think," she grinned and pulled the dress off and held it up to her friend, "that _this_ is what you need to wear." 

* * *

><p>She made it through the week without picking up any significantly demanding cases, and was at his front door just after seven thirty Friday night. Her phone was tucked into her bag, just in case, though part of her was sincerely hoping that it wouldn't ring.<p>

She had spent a decent amount of time getting ready for this. More than she had wished she had. The dress Lanie had found was perfect. Royal blue with a Sabrina neckline, cut just above her knees with a little bit of layering in the skirt. She loved it. She had found her best pair of black heels and a clutch, and curled her hair, tying it over her shoulder. Kate couldn't even remember the last time she had gotten anywhere near this dressed up.

The noise from inside permeated her thoughts. Party chatter and light music, glasses clinking and feet shuffling. The typical stuff. He had probably hired a caterer. A bartender. Would he have servers? He didn't seem _that_ into himself to hire help for what sounded to be a small amount of company.

Stop it Kate, she told herself. It was not the night to play Detective.

Her hand came up to knock on the door, and before she had even processed what she had done Alexis Castle was standing on the other side of the entryway.

"Detective Beckett! You made it!"

"Yeah," she couldn't _not_ smile at her. "Here I am." She shifted awkwardly, peering around the redhead to see inside.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Come in! Dad'll be so happy you're here."

"Did you tell him I was coming? He mentioned it earlier but we didn't really get to talk."

Alexis, dressed in a white top and teal skirt, led her into the party. "Yeah, yeah. He knows. He's around here somewhere. I think he was talking to Stephen a few minutes ago. Can I get you something?"

Kate broke her wandering eyes to look back at Alexis. Apparently Alexis was the hostess. "Oh, no. I'm good. Did ah…Did Detectives Ryan and Esposito get here yet?"

"Mhmm," she hummed. "They're over by the bar. I'll just, let you go then."

"Thanks Alexis." She spotted her partners and stepped over, jealous that they could drink. She was on call. They weren't.

"Lookin' good Detective Beckett." Esposito chirped while Ryan nodded next to him.

"You two clean up pretty nicely, yourselves. Have I missed much?"

"Nope."

"Not really," Ryan shrugged. "Got to meet James Patterson, that was pretty cool."

"You're kidding!"

"Dude," Esposito laughed, "the man's an author. He's got author friends."

She rolled her eyes at the two, mocking Esposito. "And did you freak out Esposito? Did the big shiny murder author impress you?"

"I work murders everyday. Why would I want to go home and read about them at night?"

"Maybe because they're great writers?"

"And the books are fantastic?" Ryan finished for her.

"Really man?" Esposito narrowed his gaze, "You're gonna play it that way?"

"Hey, not my fault if you can't read."

"Can't- man, you better watch out come Monday morning."

"Guys, come on. It's Castle's birthday, let it go."

"Really boys, you should listen to her. Isn't she your boss?" Castle's voice came up behind her, next to her as he strolled over, a drink in his hand.

Esposito argued, "Not really."

Ryan contradicted, "Kind of."

"I'm really not." Kate spoke up, "Just sort of seems like that, doesn't it? I do tell you what to do most of the time."

The two scowled at her as they stood, stirring the ice in their glasses, before breaking to wish Castle a happy birthday.

"You all look very nice when you're not on the clock."

"What Castle," Kate smirked, "we don't look nice when we're keeping the peace?"

"On the contrary detective, you always look lovely." His eyebrows quirked as he spoke, and Kate just then noticed exactly how close to her he was standing. She could practically feel the threads of his jacket against her skin.

Esposito cleared his throat, snapping their attention away from each other. "Gee, thanks for the compliment bro."

Ryan shook his head in disappointment and began to move away, "gonna remember that, Castle."

Kate had to stifle a laugh as the two men walked away feigning offence. She may have gotten a little too much amusement from their banter.

"They're kidding, right?"

She turned to look at him, further amused by his apparent concern. "Of course they're kidding, Castle. They just like to mess with you."

He hummed, "Guess I'll just have to think of a good way to get back at them…" He looked thoughtful, and completely serious. Until he smiled.

She laughed. "I'm sure you'll think of something Castle."

"You just wait, they won't even know what hit them."

Kate nodded for a beat, but when she turned to look at the guests around her, the envelope she'd been holding poked her in the wrist.

"Oh!" She held it up to him, "Happy Birthday, Castle." A warm smile spreads across her face when he took it from her like a child would.

"Thank you. You really didn't have to."

"No. I wanted to. I think you'll like it."

"Oh really?"

She simply stepped back to allow him space to tear open the envelope's seal. There was an actual knot – a nervous knot - in the pit of her stomach. She had given his gift a lot of thought, actually. She wanted to give him something worthwhile, but not something stupid. Yeah, he was childish, but she didn't want her gift to make him think that was _all_ she thought of him. And she didn't really want to encourage it, either. The idea finally came to her after her shopping trip with Lanie.

The yellow slip of paper was perched between his fingers. Held up to her view.

_This coupon entitles Richard Castle to one date with Kate Beckett, two weeks from this date._

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, Castle. I'm serious."

He looked like someone had just told him he won the lottery.

"But ah, don't say anything to anyone, yet. Okay? I mean it about the two weeks."

"Got it. Two weeks. I won't even mention it until then. You have my word." He made a motion of zipping his lips and tucking the key into the pocket of his jacket.

"Thank you. Really."

"No. Thank you, Kate. It's been a pretty good birthday."

"Yeah," she nervously tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, "I'm gonna go. I'm on call, and all this food and drinks are, very tempting."

"Okay," he nodded. "Alright, I'll walk you to the door then." His hand found place on the small of her back, guiding her to the door. Of course he shot her that smile when they made it. That smile that forced her to remind herself that she was an adult and shouldn't be fighting a shudder. "Thank you for coming Kate. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime Rick." She stepped in close, up on her toes, before she let herself think twice, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Ducking out of the apartment, she left him with a gaping mouth and stunned look on his face. Once she was in the elevator, completely alone, she leaned back against the wood paneling, sighed-

and grinned. 

* * *

><p><em>Thoughts? Thank you! <em>

_**Tappin  
><strong>=)_


	9. The Beginning

_I'm going to just stop pretending I have the capability to update in a timely fashion. Thanks for everyone who's still here, and to my awesome beta who forgave my oversight with the last chapter. :) _

* * *

><p>He kept his word and didn't say anything about <em>it<em> for two straight weeks. Almost.

Rick Castle was waiting for her when she stepped off of the elevator Thursday morning, hands resting, in his pockets as he leaned against a pillar. "Good Morning, Detective."

"Morning Castle," she hiked her file bag up on her shoulder, heading for her desk, nodded for him to follow. "You're early," she remarked. Usually he'd arrive shortly after her, but in the past week he had been getting to the precinct closer and closer to when she did.

"I try to be prompt."

She hummed through a thin smile as she organized her things for the day. She had gotten through most of her files the night before, and their most recent case was being processed for trial.

"And, I have a question for you."

Kate paused, just for a beat, at the line. There was a faint uncertainty in his voice laced with genuine seriousness. Odd? When she looked over at him, he was leaning one arm against the side of her desk – as usual – but looking straight at her, hopeful.

"Okay." She waited for his inquiry while turning on her computer and lining up pens in front of the unit. Just moving around a thin layer of dust, really.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" His hand crept into her field of vision, sliding across her desktop, with her little homemade coupon between his fingers.

The white slip of paper was in the center of her view when he pulled his hand back, her own loops and lines of writing looking back at her. The realization hit, that she had pretty much forgotten about the whole thing – what, with his not mentioning it at all.

"Um, yeah. I am. What exactly did you have in mind?"

His face burst into a grin. "Well I'm not one hundred percent certain just yet, but trust me, I'll have everything arranged."

She swallowed, "Everything?" What the hell was she getting herself into?

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'll pick you up? Does seven work?"

"Yeah." Kate nodded, amazed that she was having this conversation with him. "Yeah, that's fine. What am I dressing for?"

"Wear something nice, but something you don't mind doing some walking in."

"Should I be hungry? Or-"

"No, eat dinner. I'm not into clichéd first date dinners. Besides, it's not like we really need awkward small talk to get to know each other, right?"

"I don't know Castle," she clicked her tongue, teasing him with a singsong tone of voice, "could be an awful lot that you don't know about me."

"Then we'll just have to find other avenues of discovery, won't we?" He cocked his head with the insinuation, complete with the satisfied smile of scoring his date. Though, promised, it was.

"Just remember that this," she glared at him, and slid the coupon back in his direction, "is separate from the job."

The slip of paper found its way back into his hand, then promptly back into his pocket. "You got it, Detective." 

* * *

><p>The late afternoon sun pooled over the hardwood floor and rugs of her bedroom, over her comforter, still askew from her early morning rollout, and cast a shadow of Kate's frustrated posture in front of her closet. She had no idea what to wear. She was standing in front of her closet, still in her work slacks, the dress shirt hanging open.<p>

She was just thinking that maybe if she stood long enough the right outfit would jump out at her when her phone rang.

"Hey mom."

"Hey. It's been a few days, kind of wondering what my girl is up to."

Kate chewed on a thumbnail debating between the skirt and the pants, while trying to figure out what to say. "Um, having a staring contest with my clothes. You?"

"Why are you having a staring contest with your clothes?"

"That would be because I have a date…" she said as she began to comb through the hangers.

"A date, huh? Do I get to know who with?"

Her mother's voice was teasing and inquisitive. As always. Probing to see how far she could push her daughter before she'd cave and share.

Really, Kate thought, it was just nosy.

"If you absolutely must know…you can wait and see if there's anything to tell."

"Well now, that's just not fair."

"Gonna have to deal with it, Mom." She wasn't going to give her mother anymore ammunition, let alone the satisfaction of knowing her "date" was with the man she'd already tried to set her up with. She'd never get her off the phone, then.

"My date, not yours."

"If it _were_ my date, I'd tell _you_."

"Mom, I think you've been on been on four dates in the last ten years. Knowing who you're dating isn't exactly at the forefront of my mind."

"Regardless, I would tell you," she sighed dramatically, "and it's probably more like six or seven dates."

"Sure Mom. Whatever you say."

"Oh, stop. Did you find anything to wear yet?"

"Nope," she popped.

"Where are you going?"

Kate huffed into the closet. "I have no idea. He wouldn't say. Just said something nice that I can do some walking in."

"How about those dark jeans you have? Nice top, nice heels? You, but…up a notch or so, you know?"

Her eye caught on the sheer, green top hanging at the edge of the rack, and the heeled black boots in the corner. That black blazer she had would make it work…

"Yeah…I think I'll try that. I'll call you tomorrow?"

"You better. I want to hear _all_ about it."

Kate eyes rolled as she pulled what she wanted from the closet. "Sure, Mom. Talk to you tomorrow." She turned to the offending pile of 'rejects', promptly tossing them into her closet. She could clean tomorrow. 

* * *

><p>She was just finishing up her makeup when she heard the gentle knock on her door. Quickly, she screwed the tube of mascara back together and went to open the door. She found him standing only inches out, with an eager look on his face and a small bouquet of daisies in his hand.<p>

"I didn't take you for a traditionalist, Castle."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkled with it. "Full of surprises, Kate." Rick handed her the bunch and followed her into the kitchen to find a vase. "You look great," his voice was almost a whisper, almost in awe of her as she arranged the flowers on her counter.

She whispered back her thanks. Was she flushing? "You don't look so bad yourself."

He looked as if he had something to say, but stuttered and closed his mouth.

"Thank you," she stepped around him to gather her bag and keys, the lightest of springs in her step.

"For what?"

"Not ruining the moment by saying something stupid."

"How do you know it was going to be something stupid? Maybe I was going to compliment your apartment."

"Castle," she glared, the click of the lock in the door sharp behind her.

He was holding his hands up in surrender when she turned around, just before tentatively holding out his arm for her.

"So," just as tentatively she looped her arm through his, her hand settled on his strong forearm, "where are we going?"

With a grin he pulled two tickets out of his pocket to show her. "One step up from a movie. And, I thought it was appropriate, with the murder angle."

She hummed, waiting for him to hail a cab. My some miracle they managed to slide into one quickly, especially on a Friday night in New York, and he directed the driver to 49th and Broadway. "Why Chicago? Phantom of the Opera's kind of the classic murder production."

"No, no way." He shook his head in disgust. His dissent was so quick and fervent that it was almost comical.

"Why not?" She laughed.

"Because Andrew Lloyd Webber creeps me out. And Alexis. We met him at a part with my mother once and she whined for a week that he looked too much like the Grinch."

"The Grinch? As in Dr. Seuss?"

He nodded.

"How old was she?"

"Ten? But she still thinks so, and it's gotten into my head. Besides, if you wanted to hear that much opera music I'd take you to one."

She fiddled with her fingers from the corner of the cab. "Eh, it wouldn't be as good as the original anyway."

"Are you saying you saw the original production? You had to be, what? Six? Seven?"

"Mhmm," she smiled thinly. "I was taking dance classes and I was _determined_ in the notion that I was going to be a dancer, like many other six year olds, and I basically begged my parents to take me to see a show."

"But Phantom of the Opera? That's…dark, for a little kid."

"Yeah," she cracked a laugh, "To this day I can't really figure out if they didn't realize what they were taking me to? Or if my dad was somehow trying to dissuade my dancing dream. But it's stuck with me, nonetheless."

"The show or the dancing dream?"

"The music, mostly."

"As a writer I'd like to say that that's got to be some kind of foreshadowing."

"Sure, Castle. If you say so."

"You should talk to my mother about that, by the way. I'm sure she could write you a whole essay on the topic. She'd probably try to insist that she and Michael Crawford had some sort of affair."

Kate chuckled at his proposition just as the cab came to a stop. Castle popped open the door and taking her hand, pulled her up onto the sidewalk.

"At the risk of sounding like the cliché I was trying to avoid, do you come here often?"

"To Broadway? Occasionally. If I have time I like to sit and read in Times Square. Not exactly quiet though."

"That's for sure."

The sounds of the ads on larger-than-life, LED billboards drummed around them, the colors of the displays bathing them in waves of white and blue as they walked down 49th to the Ambassador Theatre.

"I'm glad you took me here, Castle. It's beautiful."

"Really?"

"Really. I don't usually do things like this. You picked a good first date."

He followed her into the theatre with a stupid grin on his face. Exceptionally pleased that he had done something right. Especially something right with her. For her. It was bound to be a _great_ first date. 

* * *

><p>It was probably the most spontaneous thing Kate had done, she had realized as they walked back. Innocently, it had started, of course, with Rick's suggestion of coffee after the show. Kate had leaned over the armrest dividing their seats and countered with an offer to come upstairs to her place for desert.<p>

He couldn't say 'yes' fast enough.

The second they walked through the door the tub of Neapolitan ice cream was opened and generous scoops were taken in bowls to the couch. Her boots had been banished to a pile next to the couch, opposite the chair his jacket was resting on.

Now, four hours after he first showed up at her door, they were chatting and laughing over ice cream and coffee.

"So, it's been just you and Alexis? That can't be easy."

"I'd really like to say it's been rough," he dragged his spoon through the chocolaty strawberry puddle in the bowl, "but she's such a great kid, that I really can't."

"That sounds nice, Castle. You must be a pretty great dad."

"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes I wonder who the adult in our house really is. Feels like she might be raising me."

"Don't sell yourself short. She's lucky to have you, and I'm sure she knows it."

"Yeah?"

She looked up from her desert at him, quiet but pleased. "Yeah, Rick. Girls love their dads no matter what. And," she smiled despite her habit to hesitate, "you're a pretty good guy."

He beamed with the compliment. A contagious smile that had her warm and happy. Happy, after a first date that she was almost afraid of.

"As grateful as I am for the honor, she's just…perfect. Daughters are perfect. Ask your dad, he'd say the same thing, I have no doubt."

A breathy sigh fell from her lips, a subconscious reflex that had her reaching to take his bowl and move into the kitchen.

"Kate," she heard his rise from the couch and his footsteps following her across the wood floor, "hey, what's up?"

"Nothing," she argued, shook her head. The pressure was there at the back of her eyes, threatening, and her hands might, kind of-sort of, been on the verge of shaking, but she faced him anyway. "Nothing. I'm fine. Can I walk you out?"

He had paused at a distance that was personal but not suffocating for her. Soft, concerned eyes focused on her, skeptical.

"Can I walk you out?"

"Only if you're sure you're okay."

"Yeah, Castle. I'm fine."

She walked with him to her front door after he gathered his jacket and shoes. "I, ah," she leaned against the edge of her door, suddenly feeling small without her heels as he stood on the edge of the threshold, "I had a really good time tonight. Thank you, Castle."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we can do something again sometime?"

Kate smiled, "That would be nice. Maybe next time I'll pick though."

"I think that sounds like a wonderful plan." He leaned in then, dangerously close and Kate could feel her heart pound in her chest. Her fingers tightened on the door, halting the gentle swaying it had been doing moments before. "I'd really like to kiss you goodnight."

"I-"

Before she could say anything, one way or another, his lips were on hers, warm and gentle. A light kiss, but perfect and all she could have wanted on a first date.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nodded, wordlessly. As he walked down the hallway away from her she thought about how the evening had gone. There had been no awkward conversation, no horrendous meal snafus, and he had been a perfect gentleman.

Kate fell back into her apartment, chewing on her lip, through yet another grin.

Why had she been so worried?

* * *

><p><em>Yes, that's my actual, personal opinion of Andrew Lloyd Webber. Don't ask me why. <em>

_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, if you're still up for more. _

_**Tappin  
><strong>=)_


	10. The Discoveries

_I'm really trying to be better. I promise. 'Trying' being the key word._

_Thanks to all you awesome people still reading! And thanks to my awesome beta!_

* * *

><p>The Castle loft was wonderfully quiet. Not a single sound in the apartment as the writer padded through the living room to the kitchen. He knew he had at least an hour to himself before someone else would wake and join him. The three always slept in, week after week, having never been a church family, and usually reserved Sundays for their lazy day.<p>

But somehow, despite the late night, he had managed to rouse and start breakfast before nine o'clock. The fantastic mood he had woken up in led him to pull out all the stops. French toast, scrambled eggs, and sliced fresh fruit were all waiting for his mother and daughter.

He was whistling a nonsense tune, cleaning the cooking mess when he heard two pairs of footsteps shuffle across the floor.

"Morning!" He called over his shoulder as he finished off the last slice of toast, flipped the burner off and slid over three plates.

"Richard," his mother sighed, "how on earth are you so perky this early in the morning?"

"Really, who are you? And what have you done with my dad?"

The two women perched themselves on barstools, lazily watching as Castle plated and served their breakfast with tall glasses of orange juice. "I hate to break it to you, Sweetheart, but I am, in fact, myself, and I don't plan on that changing anytime soon."

Alexis' lips pulled into a thin smile, her eyes rolled every so slightly. "Seriously, Dad. It's Sunday morning, what do you expect me to think?"

"Must have been quite the evening," Martha hummed over the rim of her glass.

He grinned without even realizing it, completely missing the snap of his daughter's head and her confused look.

"You had a date last night? With Detective Beckett?"

"Yes," he took his seat beside her and forked up a bite of eggs, "I had a date with Kate last night. She took me dancing."

"You?" Martha questioned, "Mister 'I'll-keep-the-chair-warm' went _dancing_?" She was completely shocked. Floored that her son, who had begged off of dance floors for his entire life, had willingly let a woman take him dancing.

He laughed through his mouthful, swallowed and turned to face his mother. "What can I say? She caught me off-guard. I didn't realize she could…be that relaxed. Kate's always so strict at work, and she was so excited. It was nice to see that side of her. And," he stabbed the fork into a defenseless strawberry, "she's actually pretty good."

"You know, you're always telling me not to judge a book by its cover, Dad. Maybe you should practice what you preach."

"I wasn't _judgin_g," he argued, "I was just surprised."

The corner of Alexis' mouth curled up in a smirk, teasing as she stood and rounded the island to drop her plate in the dishwasher, "Well, it's okay to be surprised sometimes. That's what makes things more fun." She leaned in, one hand on his shoulder, "What's wrong with that if she makes you happy?"

Rick looked up at his daughter. His beautiful daughter, wise beyond her years, who for once looked happy at the prospect of his dating. "Nothing," he reached up and rested his hand on top of hers, "you're right, there's nothing wrong with that. I guess it's just still new."

His mother spoke up from the other end of the bar, "I told you that girl was different. But, no," she dragged, "you just couldn't listen to me. I'm only your mother, the woman who raised you."

"If it makes you feel any better, I can honestly say you _may_ have had a point."

"May have had a point? Richard! You're completely taken. Even Alexis can tell, right darling?"

His daughter giggled into his shoulder, nodding. "Dad, it's kind of obvious."

"Really?" He practically shrieked. Thrown at being found out. After an off-handed comment about a get-together with their friends she had asked if they could keep _them_ between themselves, and he thought he had been doing a good job of maintaining their cover. "Kate's gonna kill me."

"We won't say anything to anyone, I promise." Alexis laughed. "Maybe she can come over for lunch or dinner sometime? I mean," she paused, looking as if she was afraid to finish her thought.

"What is it, Pumpkin?"

"I mean, we - me and Gram – don't really know her that well. And, it might be kind of nice. The last time I saw her she had arrested you, you know."

He chuckled. "Trust me, I know. How about this? I'll ask her, and if she's comfortable with it, we'll figure something out."

The youngest Castle smiled, seemingly satisfied with the proposition. "Sounds good." She leaned in to peck his cheek before hopping off to the stairs, "I'm studying with Paige today, got to go get ready."

The drumming of her feet against the stares faded, the sound replaced with little pause by his mother. "It would be nice to see her when you're not in custody for once."

"Very funny, Mother."

"Oh, come on. You can't blame me for wanting to meet the woman you're apparently dating. Seriously."

"I don't know if I'd say 'seriously' just yet."

She glared at him.

"Like I told Alexis, I will ask her. But I'm not going to push her into anything she doesn't feel ready for."

"I'm impressed, Richard. You've never been this considerate and concerned before."

"Well, Kate's different. I'm not sure how, but she is. And I want to do things right this time."

Martha stood and took a step closer to him before lovingly patting his cheek. "I told you so." She turned on her heel and was halfway across the room when he realized that he couldn't come up with a decent response.

Because she was right.

* * *

><p>By the time he arrived at the precinct Kate was already at her desk combing through paperwork for the case they closed yesterday. He smiled at the sight of her, leg pulled up underneath herself, perched over the file with her case notes sitting beside her. The night before he had been worried that she might push back the date to get the work done, but she proved him wrong and put off the tedious forms to go dancing with him.<p>

Some of the other detectives and officers were mulling about with their own work, and he could see Ryan and Esposito camped out in the break room with their own files and lunch. But instead of stopping to talk he headed right for Kate, dropped down in what was now his chair beside her desk.

"Hey."

"Morning Castle." She spoke without looking up, her pen skating along the page. "Late night?"

He could hear the smile, even though she kept her eyes trained on the words she was writing. "Nothing regrettable. How about you? You do anything fun?"

"Nothing special. Saw this guy who's been following me around." She shrugged.

"Sounds dangerous. Those stalker-types? You should be careful."

She smiled, leaning over the forms, "What can I say, Castle? Maybe a little danger's not such a bad thing."

"Well, given the circumstances I think I'll have to agree with you."

"Good." Before she could get too close, Kate leaned back and went right back to her paperwork. "Besides, he's kind of growing on me."

"Oh yeah?"

He scooted to the edge of his seat at her hum, and the small life of her brow and corner of her mouth. "Coffee?"

"Sure," her eyes were brighter when she glanced up at him. He reached for the mug she held out for him. A very nondescript navy blue mug with the NYPD logo on it.

"We need to get you a better mug. This one's too boring."

"Sure, Castle." She laughed, "Whatever you say."

Rick was already making plans to take her shopping for new, more 'her' mugs by the time he reached the break room. He went for the espresso machine, completely oblivious to the two men watching his every step.

He had just gotten the first mug filled when Esposito cleared his throat.

"Oh! Hey. Kind of forgot you guys were in here."

"Yeah, Castle," Ryan spoke up, "we noticed."

"Dude, seriously, you're really going to try to keep hiding this from us?"

Rick looked around, suspicious and doing everything he could to cover his nerves. "What? The coffee machine? I already taught you guys how to use it."

"Really?"

The two men stood up as Esposito shook his head, stepping in far too close for comfort.

"We're not idiots Castle."

Ryan nodded to the bullpen, "You forget we're detectives, or something? We know there's something going on."

"What do you mean?" Rick shifted against the counter. Suddenly he could imagine quite clearly what suspects must feel like opposite the two of them.

Esposito crossed his arms, narrowed his eyes on the writer. "Two of you, sitting a little closer."

"Whispering."

"Smiling."

"Dude, you got her laughing like a high school girl. Obviously, you two are _something_."

"But exactly _what_, is what we want to know."

Rick fought to smile, urging himself to relax and not feed their plan to make him crack. "Guys, there's nothing for me to tell-"

"Castle, why don't you just make it easier and tell us? Unless you want us to ask Beckett?"

Clearly there was some sort of good cop-bad cop play going on here.

"Ask me what?"

All three men turned at her question, all struggling to find the right words – any words – to explain themselves.

"I come in here to find out what the hell was taking my coffee so long, and I find you two looking at Castle like he's killed someone. What's the deal?"

"We know."

She looked at Esposito, squinting, confused.

"Know what?"

"About you and Castle."

She turned to Ryan. "So?"

"So, we want some answers."

"Oh, well, if you _know_ so much, why could you have questions?"

They stared at her, Castle watching idly from behind the detectives who stood silent.

"Guys," she shook her head, "I'm a big girl. I'm allowed to see who I want to see when I want to see them. Why don't you lay off a little?"

Kate didn't even give them a chance to counter before she took the one mug of coffee that was finished from the counter and spun on her heel to go back to her desk.

The second she was out of earshot Ryan turned, slapping Rick's arm. "Jeez, Castle!"

"What! What did I do? You two were the ones who went all super cop on me!"

"If you had just told us we wouldn't have had to ask you. Now you got us in trouble."

"Again, you were the ones attacking me."

"Oh, come on," Ryan huffed, "we didn't 'attack' you. Strictly man to man conversation."

"Don't be so sensitive, Castle. Unless…that's Beckett's thing…"

Ryan reached out in an instant, putting a hand firmly on his partner's shoulder. "Dude. It's Becket. You really want to go there?"

Rick could see the realization hit Esposito. The man's face blanked at the thought. He had to fight back the laugh. "Yes, we're together. Happy now?"

"Yes," Ryan answered. "That's all we ever wanted to know in the first place."

"But let's get one thing straight," Esposito had straightened up, one finger aimed at Rick, completely serious, "she's our partner, too. Don't screw things up."

"Don't forget we know how to hide a body."

Rick nodded. "You got it. Won't do anything stupid."

Both detectives dropped the threatening faces as they stepped back. "Good," nodded Esposito.

"But for the record," Ryan smiled, "we are happy for you guys."

"Thank you," he sighed, relieved. "And, for your own peace of mind, I really do care about her. I don't have some sort of agenda, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt her."

The two gave one last nod of approval before leaving the writer to make the second mug of coffee he first came in for, watching silently as he pressed buttons and turned levers before leaving with the steaming drink.

Letting out a heavy breath, he settled back into the chair next to Kate's desk.

"I think that alone was enough to quell any future desire to break the law."

"Really now?"

"Mhmmm." He shook his head, exaggerated, with his eyes wide.

"Remind me to call them in the next time you don't listen to me."

"Oh no. I beg you, within an inch of my life, to _never_ make me face them that way again."

"Calm down, Castle. They're just messing with you."

"And yet somehow, I'm not entirely convinced."

Kate laughed at him before picking up a stack of completed files. "You just stay here and relax then. I'm gonna go file these."

He couldn't help but watch her as she walked away. How had they gotten here? Something had changed. When, he didn't know. But after two and a half dates, and thinking about the way she smiled, the way she let him into her life, he definitely wasn't about to do anything to change it back.

* * *

><p>He was typing away on his new project that night when he heard a soft knock on his office door.<p>

"Hey, Dad?"

Rick looked up from the laptop screen at his daughter's tentative call. The door was barely open, her face peering shyly around the edge.

"Yeah?"

"Can we talk?" Curious, he lifted the computer from his lap, putting it on the desk so he could sit up. She was quiet, eyes downcast as she came further through the doorway.

"Of course, Sweetie. What's up?"

"You remember when I said how it might be nice to get to know Detective Beckett better?"

He nodded.

"Well, I really meant it. I think it would be great. And I was talking to Paige about it earlier when we finished our work, telling her about how you're dating her, you know?" Alexis had approached the edge of his desk with some slip of paper between her fingers, he noticed. "And I was talking about how I don't really know much about her because I've only seen her twice, and before I could stop her she had gotten her laptop and-"

"Alexis," he grabbed her arm, pulling her into him, just hoping that the contact would help calm her down, "relax. Take a breath. Just tell me, what is it?"

"Dad, we found this." With a shakey hand she passed over the eight and a half by eleven sheet. "Is it true?"

Rick looked down into the smiling faces of Kate and her parents – the same Christmastime photo that sat on her desk at the precinct. Underneath were the words he had never expected to read.

_James Michael Beckett died November 27, 1999, as a result of an unfortunate act of gang violence. He was a dedicated lawyer and a devoted father and husband, who loved to camp and fish with his friends and spend lazy weekends with his family. James Beckett is survived by his wife Johanna and daughter Katherine. _

He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. The sound drained away from the room as his eyes scanned the page again. Ten years ago. Her father had been killed. It explained so much. But…she hadn't told him.

It was enough to make him sick. Ten years ago Kate would have barely been older than Alexis. He couldn't even imagine-

"I don't know." He managed to get the words out past the tightness of his throat. "I'll….I'll ask her, okay?"

"Dad. Kate had to be like…18 then." His daughter's voice cracked, near to tears as she clung to the arm he had draped over her shoulders. He let the paper drop to the ground and turned to gather her completely in his arms.

"I know, Sweetie." He rocked her back and forth. Just as he did when she was small and couldn't sleep. "I'll talk to her okay? Will that help."

Alexis nodded against his chest with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have pried."

"It's alright."

He could only continue the comforting sway, back and forth in the corner of his office. He thought about Alexis, and what would happen to her if something should happen to him. Would she be alright? Would she be a cop like Kate?

And Kate.

His thoughts shifted to the detective. His…girlfriend? The woman he was completely captivated by. Her family had been torn apart by some stupid gang. Just a kid when it happened and somehow she managed to become the amazing woman she was.

How the hell could he rip that wound open again?

* * *

><p><em>I actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!<em>

_Thanks for reading!_

_**Tappin  
><strong>=)_


	11. The Disclosures

_Thanks to my awesome beta, and nope, it's still not mine. _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Kate leaned against the brick exterior of the precinct, one leg crossed over the other as she waited. He had sent her a very nondescript text message saying only that he needed to talk to her about something, could she meet him? Could mean a million different things, she told herself, as she willed away the sweat beginning to stick to her skin from the hot June air. She had remembered to bring a tee shirt to change into after her shift but not shorts, so she was stuck wearing her work jeans, a white tee and sandals. Better than the jeans and the button-up, she supposed.<p>

She finally spotted him down the sidewalk, taking slow and heavy steps toward her, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hey," she said with a smile when he made it to her.

"Hey," he replied. "Have you been waiting long?" Despite the odd look on his face and the stiffness of his stance he moved to kiss her cheek.

She shook her head. "No. Just a few minutes. Is everything okay?"

"Can we walk? There's a little shaded area down the block."

Avoidance. Not something she was particularly a fan of. "Sure." She nodded. "Did you get the writing done that you wanted to last night? You said you were trying to do something different."

Rick was quick to say yes, saying just enough to reassure her that he was writing again, but not enough to give away the project or the current dilemma. He took her elbow when they reached a little paved patch beneath some trees, led her to one of the benches.

The silence was awkward. It was probably one of very few moments in the past few months – since meeting him, really – where there wasn't a constant stream of remarks and theories. Weird. And very unlike him, she thought.

"I, ah, I need to talk to you about something…well, ask you something, really."

"Okay…"

"And I'm not really sure how to do that without making you feel like I'm going behind your back or that I'm trying to disrespect you."

There was a nervous flutter in her stomach. Nervous about what had him so off-kilter, and nervous that he cared enough to even be so off. "Just tell me, Rick," she laid her hand over his, "just say it."

He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded sheet of white paper. "Here."

She watched as he slowly unfolded the page, head down, before handing it over.

She sucked in a breath.

There on the page was her own smiling face, standing between her parents – both of them.

It only took a glance for her to know what she was looking at. She didn't need to check, she knew exactly what was printed below the shot. The words had been etched onto her memory years ago. Rick was saying something, trying to explain, she supposed, but she couldn't hear anything. The words sounded garbled and distant.

Even though she looked at the picture everyday, and other pictures of those happy times, the black and white printed obituary piece nearly knocked her over.

"Castle, where did you get this?" The sound choked off at the end of the question as her fingers tightened around the page.

"Yesterday, Alexis came home from studying with a friend, all freaked out and worried. She didn't know what to do. I guess she was talking to her friend about us? Mentioning that we were…dating, and….anyway, somehow they ended up online and…found it."

"Just…found it?"

"I swear, she wasn't trying to find…anything, really, and she feels terrible. And, I just…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up, but, she was so shaken and then when she mentioned when-"

Kate sniffed and ran a hand over her face and through the loose locks she had pulled back into a ponytail. "It's okay, Castle. I, I should have told you."

"No, that's just it," he turned and took the obituary from her hands, replacing it with his own fingers. "I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me anything. Especially this. It's personal, and it's yours."

She waited. Waited for him, or waited for herself, she wasn't sure. But she let the silence blanket them for a few more minutes before she found her voice again, without her thoughts scattered and disjointed. "It was about ten years ago. I was coming home for Thanksgiving, and my mom was picking me up at the airport because my dad was working late. We were going to meet at this diner I liked but he never showed. And," she drew in a deep breath, "when we got home there was a detective waiting for us."

The warmth from his thumb stroking the back of her hand helped bring her head back down.

"A gang?"

"So they say," she shrugged. Her fingers were toying with the edges of the paper, making little folds and tears as she flatly spoke. "But I didn't buy it then and I don't buy it now. He still had his wedding ring and all of his cash. Wasn't even really assaulted."

"Then…how…?"

"He was stabbed. In this alley a few blocks away from their firm. He was just on his way to meet us…"

"I'm so sorry," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders when her voice hitched. "That's why you wear the watch?"

"Mhmm," hummed Kate. "For him. The life that I lost." She reached up to her neck and pulled a chain. Her thumb slipped into the ring hanging from it, drawing a long, loving look from the detective. "For the life that I saved. I didn't finish out the rest of that semester and transferred here so I could be closer to my mom. She always says she doesn't know what would have happened if I hadn't. One day she woke me up in the middle of the night, she was completely frantic, shaking and crying, said she had some dream – a nightmare – and asked me if I'd keep it for her for a while."

"And you still have it?"

"Yeah." She squeezed his hand, "It's a reminder, you know? When I'm out in the field I can feel it, and it reminds me that I have something to come home to."

He remembered the strand of glittered beads that hung from his key ring strung together by five year-old hands years ago. "Yeah, I know." He pulled her into his side, dropping a tender kiss to her head when she rested it on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

"Me?" He let out a surprised huff, "I should be apologizing to you."

"No," she _almost_ laughed. "I was going to tell you. I really was. I mean, I hadn't figured out when, but I was going to."

"Will you tell me about him sometime?"

"Sure."

He removed his arm from her shoulders and leaned forward, gave her a sidelong look and smile, "You were lucky to have those eighteen years."

"Yeah," she smiled back, "I know."

His hands clapped together, breaking the calm that had been ever-present since they sat down. "So! You want to go get a hotdog?"

His eagerness made her laugh. A full, true laugh this time. There was no more nervous feeling sitting in her stomach. No more worries. The weight of having to keep that part of her from him had lived and left behind the comforting knowledge that things were good between them. "Sure, Castle. Buy me a hotdog."

Kate took his arm, despite the heat, when she stood and let him escort her to a vendor at the corner. "Who said I was going to pay for you? Maybe I only bought enough scratch for one?"

"Scratch?" She quirked, "Really? You've been spending too much time around druggies and criminals."

"Long as I can be near you, just the price you'll have to pay."

"How ever will I survive," she droned.

With little more chatter he had paid for the two dogs and a coke to share and the two took to leaning against a cement pillar with their lunch. "So," he started, tentative again, "Alexis feels really bad and kind of wants to make it up to you-"

"Oh, no, she doesn't have to do that or feel-"

"Kate," he stopped her. "She figured out how old you were. Hit a little close."

She was taken aback, struck with memories of herself, just on the verge of turning nineteen in the wake of their tragedy. "Oh. Yeah, then whatever you think, I guess."

"We were thinking of a movie night if you're free."

"Well, I'm having dinner with my mom tonight, and I'm on the late rotation for the rest of the week, but, how's Saturday?"

"Saturday's great." He grinned and took the empty foil wrapping from her while she took the last few sips of soda. "Walk you home?"

The smile played at her lips with her nod. No nerves. No worries. Just them.

* * *

><p>She managed to make it to her mother's apartment on-time, despite the ridiculous amount of traffic, only marginally wind-blown and carrying a bag full of fruit and cake for desert.<p>

The afternoon with Rick was still on her mind even hours later and after her round of cleaning in her place and a shower. His face, that guilty, apologetic look kept popping up in her head, even though she had reassured him several times that he had nothing to be sorry for, and she couldn't help but feel a little guilty herself for not having told him. The rational part of her said that she was waiting for the right time. The appropriate time. But there was still that nagging that she had basically lied to him.

As soon as she stepped through the front door her mother was at her side, taking bags and asking the usual mom-questions, pausing when she noticed the still-dazed look on her daughter's face.

"Everything okay, Kate? You look a little out-of-it."

"Huh?" She turned from where she stood at the counter dishing salad into bowls. "Yeah. Just something on my mind."

"Anything I can help with?"

Johanna followed Kate to the table, she with the dishes, waiting for any sort of answer.

Kate contemplated her options. She could _not_ tell her mother about what happened today, but then she'd probably just feel guilty for that and she'd eventually find out anyway. If she told her mother, it could go well – it would probably go well, considering the progress they had made in the last ten years – or her mother could demand that she never see Rick again. Something that Kate wasn't entirely sure she could do if for some reason it came down to that.

After a few quiet bites she figured 'to hell with it.'

"So you know how I've been dating the same guy for a while now?" She absently stabbed her fork into a mound of lettuce as she chose her next words carefully when her mother shot her a sly affirmative. "It's Castle."

Nervously, she looked up, expecting a Cheshire cat grin and teasing remark.

Instead she was met with a questioning, prompting look. "I take it that he has something to do with your mood?"

"Sort of," she sighed. "Not him, not really. I thought I was okay, because we left things so…good, but I guess it's still nagging at me." Again, she sighed, exasperated. "His daughter found dad's obit, and he asked me about it today."

Johanna reached across the table to take her hand, only gently, and with a reassuring but strained voice managed to ask, "Didn't go well?"

"No," she shook her head, "it was fine. Hard, but – I mean, I had been trying to figure out if I should tell him and when, so it caught me off guard."

"Of course it did."

"I told him. Not everything, but-"

"Yeah."

"He felt really bad about it, and probably still does. Alexis feels horrible, he said. They want me to come over for a movie this weekend."

"Are you going?"

Kate smiled, thinly, "Yeah. I haven't really gotten to know Alexis, and I want to make sure everything's okay between us."

"You really like him," Johanna practically sang, now smiling more like Kate had expected.

Kate threw her head back on a light laugh. That was her 'I-told-you-so-voice'. "Yeah. I do." She smirked at her mom, "So, you can be happy now. You were right."

"Mhmm," she paused then, "but I'm glad you figured it out for yourself."

"I think…I think I'm glad that he knows about Dad. I really didn't know how to start that conversation, and now I don't have to hide it."

"Do you? Hide it from people?"

"Do you?"

"Katie."

"Maybe not 'hide it', but I certainly don't go broadcasting it. It's our business and I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me."

"But you told Castle. Maybe you only told him now because he found out first, but you said you had been thinking about it. That means something."

Kate sat, pushing vegetables around on her plate, thinking about just that. Aside from Ryan and Esposito, and then Will, she had never volunteered the story of her dad's case to anyone. No one had ever gotten that close.

"How long have you been seeing him? Officially."

"About two months."

"Okay," she huffed, "I'm just going to ignore the fact that you've been dating this man for two months and I still haven't met him."

Kate rolled her eyes.

Johanna dropped her voice, sincere and loving, "You've only ever told one man you've dated, and yet you trust him. Don't let it freak you out. Just, take a step back, go to his place and enjoy yourself, and let whatever happens happen. It sounds to me like if he's enough of a man to worry about how you'd feel about him knowing, he's enough of a man to trust with it. And you already know I'm right so just relax."

When she sat back, grinning, Kate let out a breath, and a satisfied smile. "Okay. I'll see how things go. But I'm not going to lie, I'm petrified of talking to his daughter about it."

"How old is she?" Johanna asked between bites of baked chicken.

"Almost sixteen. And she's brilliant from what Rick's told me."

"Hmm, I bet she's a lot like you were at sixteen. You know, before you decided on the motorcycle and started dating that drug dealer."

"Mom, he was not a drug dealer."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say."

Kate rolled her eyes. "We're going to move on now, because it doesn't matter anyway."

They ate for a few moments in a comfortable silence, eyeing each other and fighting back snark and teasing laughter. It was what Kate loved about her mom. She made the tough stuff not seem so tough, and made things lighter. Kind of like Castle…

"I think you'd like him. Rick."

"Oh yeah?" Johanna quirked an eyebrow, "So when do I get to meet him?"

Kate laughed. "Soon. I'll figure something out soon." 

* * *

><p><em>So, I started a blog (address is on my profile, I'd love for you to check it out!), and writing for that has kind of eaten my brain, so this took a lot longer than I wanted it to. Got a couple more chapters planned before some drama, so sit tight! I'm tryin!<em>

_Also, I realize this version of Castle is a lot more grown-up than season 1 Castle. Hope that's okay. :)_

_Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think!_

_**Tappin  
><strong>=)_


	12. The Aftermath

_Blog and school have eaten my brain. That's my only excuse. Thanks, if you're still here! You're awesome! And my equally aweseom beta Kayli!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>She had two hours left in her shift before she had to leave. Castle had called that morning to clarify their plans, asking her to come over at seven for pizza and a movie, which left her just enough time to finish her paperwork and do some clean-up before going. After making a few clicks on her computer, pulling up everything she needed to get her work done, she grabbed her coffee mug and headed for more coffee.<p>

The precinct was operating on a low buzz today – nothing too pressing and nothing too loud, which was a godsend on a hot summer day. Yet, despite the heat she was going for coffee anyway. She passed by the boys, who eyed her curiously – odd – nodded to a couple of uniforms making their rounds, and smiled to herself as she measured, poured and watched the brew trickle down into the pot.

She was having dinner with Rick and his daughter.

Then the nerves bubbled up again. It had been so long since just thinking about a date with a man made her nervous. No one had been particularly interesting…or, worth the anxiety in years. Then there was Rick, and her feelings about the night had been bouncing back and forth like a ping-pong ball all day.

She was having dinner with Rick…and his daughter.

His daughter Alexis who had found out about her dad's death and panicked.

Kate couldn't decide if she was petrified about that fact or touched that the girl had cared enough to panic.

Her hands clammed up. She tried to steady them while pouring her coffee, thankfully successful in not spilling the hot liquid all over herself, and leaned back against the counter to take a calming breath. The sounds of keys clacking and footsteps helped to drown out the worry.

It was a good thing. It was good that they knew and she didn't have to try to figure out how to have that awkward conversation with him….them. And, they cared. It was nice knowing that someone aside from her mother and their family really cared. In the past she had always been the one to laugh at people who waxed poetic about the warm feeling you got from being cared about. But now? Now she understood.

She must have been smiling, thinking about them, because her thoughts were broken by Ryan and Esposito's amused hums.

"Everything good, Beckett?" Esposito clicked the t's of her name, smirking as he pulled out a chair at the small table.

"Yeah," Ryan seconded, "must be something that's got you thinking so hard."

"And smiling."

"And smiling," Ryan echoed his partner.

Quickly, she shook her head, "No, just…thinking. Enjoying a cup before going back to the mountain of work sitting on my desk." The two hummed, suspicious looks on their faces as they shifted back and forth from foot to foot. Frustrating or just plain annoying, Kate couldn't decide. Fed up, she shouted, "What?"

"Nothin'," Esposito shook his head, "No Castle today?"

"Oh, um, no." She stuttered, mentally kicking herself for hesitating. Her stomach clenched and her fingers tightened around the warm ceramic of her mug's handle. Ryan and Esposito kind of knew about she and Rick, but things were just getting to the point where there was anything to know in the first place. "He's got book stuff, or something with Alexis. I think."

"You sure?" Ryan questioned with a teasing squint of his eyes. "Because the two of you have been pretty close lately."

"Yeah, he's got his own stuff to deal with. What's it to you two? Miss your playmate?"

The detectives stepped closer. The rubber soles of their shoes thumped against the worn wooden precinct floor, almost too slow to be friendly. "No," Esposito started.

"But like we said, you two have been pretty close lately, and…we just had a question for you."

Kate poised an eyebrow in curiosity. They were great detectives, the two of them, but sometimes Kate wondered if they might have forgotten that this wasn't middle school and they weren't the top jocks.

"Castle treating you okay?"

She cocked her head, the faintest twitch of a smile on her face at Esposito's question. They were trying to vet Rick? "What do you mean?"

Ryan let out a breath, almost whining with awkwardness and concern, "Just trying to make sure that he's…you know? Taking care of you?"

"Guys, I don't need to be taken care of."

"We know," they chorused.

"But we wanted to check and see if you needed us to do any roughing up. Some light intimidation. Let him know his…rights and obligations." Esposito rubbed his hands together, as if to imply he had some sort of plan up his sleeves.

They were too much, she thought, as she shook her head. She wasn't even sure of what to say to that. What does one say to your partners when they offer to threaten your boyfriend? It was sweet. Really sweet – for two grown men – but completely unnecessary.

"You don't need to do anything. Really. Don't." She narrowed her eyes, throwing the two a warning. "No scaring him off."

She took her mug and strutted back to her desk, leaving Ryan and Esposito whispering behind her. With a little jiggle of the mouse her screen buzzed awake, everything she needed for the monotonous paperwork staring back at her. She'd only gotten through one page and a few more sips of coffee before the clearing of throats permeated her concentration.

"Yes?"

The two were standing in front of her desk, both with their hands shoved in their pockets, sweet and curious expressions on their faces.

Ryan started. "So, things are getting serious with you two?"

"Not that we're complaining, but you haven't really told us anything and neither has he, so you're either not telling us because it's that good, or because you're worried."

"I'm not worried," she argued.

Esposito glared at her. Ryan nudged at his arm for being too hard on her.

Kate sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, folding her hands together across the back of her head. "Things are good. Really good, I guess. It's certainly not what I planned on, but…he's so much better than the way all those entertainment columnists portray him."

"But…" Esposito, pushing as usual.

"Alexis found out about my dad. Something about her friend looking me up online. Rick says she freaked out and now she feels terrible."

"And, you feel…" Ryan, ever sympathetic.

"I mean, I know I'm not responsible or anything, but," she sighed again, "she's fifteen. She doesn't need to be worrying about stuff like that. And it doesn't help that her father follows me around at my not-so-safe job. If she asks, I can't promise her that he'll always be okay. Or that I'll always be okay. I can't do that…to anyone."

"Beckett it's just a bump in the road. You'll see, everything'll be fine. Does Castle have a problem with it?"

"No," she shook her head, not hesitating at all with her answer, "no, Rick gets it. I told him."

They looked stunned.

Kate shrugged. "He was concerned, after Alexis finding out, and I just figured it would be better to tell him now. I don't know. I'm having dinner with them tonight."

"Look, you've got no reason to freak. Castle's crazy about you." Esposito almost laughed.

"Face it Beckett," Ryan chorused, "you're stuck with him."

She smiled, despite the uncertainty coursing through her and her need to not let the boys get any ammo to use against her. But there they were, smiling back.

Happy that she was happy.

"I still don't want you to mess with him."

"Aw, come on Beckett!" Esposito whined, "It's our job!"

"We should get something out of this relationship, too. It's only fair." The diplomatic tone would get Ryan nowhere.

"Ah, no. I don't think so. And don't you have work to be doing?"

Ryan turned and looked at their desks. Papers piled, notepads flipped open to pages covered in scrawling lines, errant writing implements decorating the surface, "Probably."

She shooed them away with a brush of her hands and an eye roll, "Well, go find some."

As the detectives chuckled, turning around and moving to take their own chairs, Kate could feel the weight in her shoulders melt away, the tightness in her back relaxing when she resumed writing the report they had interrupted. An hour and a half left, she reminded herself. Then she'd be swapping her business slacks for jeans and making the trek uptown to Rick's loft. It would be different this time. Not like his birthday party was, with so many people and music and pictures. It was just going to be them. Alexis and them.

But suddenly she wasn't so worried anymore.

"Hey Beckett?" She looked up at their call.

"Since when is he 'Rick'?" Esposito asked with a smirk.

One flick of her wrist and her pen went soaring over floor space and a desk, and hit him right in the forehead. "Shut up, Esposito."

* * *

><p>As soon as the clock hit six fifteen she was out of her chair and ducking into the bathroom to change. The dark blue button-up stayed, but she traded her black dress pants for light skinny jeans, and her black heels for black flats. She'd be in enough of a rush as it is, she knew, and figured that the flats would be a little easier to hurry in.<p>

She had left her own car at her building earlier, under the impression that by taking a cab she could avoid a parking disaster getting there and could then let herself relax without having to worry about driving home.

Fingers combed through her hair, loose today, as she rode the elevator up to his place.

Their place. His and Alexis's place.

She ran a mental checklist in her head as she walked down the hallway. Her work was done, her place was clean, no calls to make or take – she was free for the rest of the night. Good, she thought.

Kate let herself have one last deep breath to pull herself together before she knocked on the big red door in front of her. She wasn't worried anymore, not concerned that things would go horribly and she'd be forced back to what she had called a 'life' before Castle came around and…all of _this_. No, now those flutters in her stomach were because she was excited. Somewhere between her conversation with the boys and her ride over she had turned into some kind of girly, excited mess, bouncing on her toes at the thought of seeing _him_.

It was the weirdest sensation she had ever felt, but she had actually taken care to reapply her make up and make sure she didn't look like she just stepped off of a takedown before she came over. She was really surprised she wasn't more worried about her own behavior.

Her hand came up to knock on the door almost of its own volition and she could hear the shuffle of feet on the other side almost instantly.

Had he been waiting for her? On the edge of his seat, waiting for her?

She smiled.

Then his own smiling face appeared when the door practically flew open. "Kate." Her name sounded so different when he said it, like that.

"Hey," if it was at all possible, her grin grew. "You gonna let me in?"

His eyes nearly bugged out, "Oh! Yeah, of course. Come on in." He backed up, letting her pass, and held out his hands. "Here, let me take your things."

"Sure," she held out her bag to him, paused, reaching in to grab her cell phone. "I'm not on-call tonight, but…you never know. Just in case."

Rick leaned down, pecking her cheek before running off to leave her purse in the front closet.

Kate pulled her arms around her torso and took a look around. The place looked _very_ different when it wasn't decked out for the master of the macabre's birthday. It was clean, modern, and very open. She could hear faint music playing on the stereo in the living room, noticed that there was a stack of DVDs on the coffee table, and Alexis was nowhere to be found. At least, not in her visual range.

"All set," he exclaimed, and she felt his arms come around from behind her, turning her in his embrace. "Now I can greet you properly." Before she could question him his mouth was on hers, warm and inviting. She gave into the kiss, only breaking apart when he did. A hand, his, came up to brush a lock of her hair back.

"Good day?"

"Good day," she replied, "Better night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He studied her face, then looked her up and down, letting out a little gasp at his observation. "You're shorter!"

"Well, I didn't feel like leaving my heels on. Got a problem with that, Rick?" She teased, half laughing half interrogating. Almost. She pulled her lip between her teeth, eyebrows quirked, poised for his comeback.

"Not at all," he pulled her into his chest in a split second, "Now I can do this."

She fit so perfectly with him, literally. Her head tucked under her chin, his arms wrapped snuggly around her. "I'm good with this," she noted, leaning back to look up at his still-smiling face.

"I'm glad. But I do love the heels. Very power-cop."

Just when it seemed like he was about to kiss her again, right at the start of her notion that they'd end up necking like a couple of teenagers in his foyer, his teenager came clipping down the stairs.

Kate caught a glimpse of Alexis's flaming red hair over his shoulder, and that knot was back in her core again. What was she supposed to say to the kid?

Alexis looked at her carefully when she reached the bottom of the staircase and noticed the two of them. She was trying to smile back at them, Kate could tell, but she was holding back. The two of them were probably equally wary of each other.

"Detective Beckett," she chirped, "Hi! I'm glad you could come."

Kate peeled herself out of Rick's arms and returned the girl's sentiment. "Thank you for inviting me. And, it's Kate. Please, I'm only Detective Beckett at work, really."

Alexis only nodded before turning and heading into the kitchen.

"Rick, what am I supposed to say?" She whispered to him, still hanging onto his hands as if she would float away without the tether.

"Just relax. I explained to her, only vaguely. She's okay, just, a little nervous."

"Not the only one," she muttered on an exhale.

"Hey," he tipped her face back to his with a finger underneath her chin, "don't be nervous. It's just Alexis and I."

"Don't be nervous? Rick, this is the first time I'm meeting your daughter when I'm A, not arresting you, or B, not at a party. It's just a _little_ nerve-wracking," she held up her thumb and forefinger, less than a centimeter apart to help prove her point.

He sighed, "Come on, we'll enjoy this lovely homemade pizza the two of us put together, and then we'll curl into the couch and I swear, you'll forget you were ever on-edge."

"Hey, hey, writer-boy, there's a difference between nervous and on-edge. Stop twisting my words."

He pulled her into the kitchen, laughing at her protest. "Writer-boy? Where did that come from?"

"Mmm," she shrugged as they came up to the counter opposite Alexis, "Lanie. Maybe the guys. It's probably spread like wildfire around the precinct by now."

"That is _not_ a cool nickname." A pout took over his face, despite Kate's smirk at the moniker.

"Dad, you act like you're twelve sometimes, are you really surprised?"

Kate turned her head from looking at the father to looking at the daughter. Alexis was giggling at the two of them while idly shaking some last minute spices onto the top of the pizza.

"Yeah, Castle, it's completely applicable. Especially after that little 'kick me' incident with Ryan."

"Oh yeah…." he smoothed his fingers over his chin in thought.

"What?" Alexis laughed, "What do you mean 'kick me' incident?"

When he opened his mouth to speak Kate clapped a hand over it. "He somehow managed to tape a 'kick me' sign to Ryan's back. One of the other guys who works with me. And Esposito, his partner, did. Kick him, right in the middle of a crime scene while I was talking to a witness not four feet away."

"No!"

"Oh yes."

"Dad, that's like, the dumbest prank in the book. Even real twelve year olds don't pull that kind of antiquated stunt."

The two ladies laughed, successfully breaking the awkward tension that had been lingering since Alexis came downstairs. "Sometimes I think I'm a babysitter, not a detective."

Kate felt Rick attempt to kiss the palm of her hand, still over his mouth, and she pulled it away.

"I'm going to take these to the table." He reached out and took the two pies in his hands, one a spicy looking pepperoni, the other, she guessed a sort of four-cheese thing.

"Smells great."

"Dad cooked," Alexis began to gather utensils and glasses, "I supervised."

"See?" Kate hummed, "Babysitting."

"Hey, stop trying to undermine my reputation with my daughter."

"Really, Dad? Tonight was _nothing_ compared to some of the other things you've done."

"I don't recall anything of the sort," he volleyed.

"You want me to tell the fried turkey story?"

"Don't you dare." He didn't sound at all threatening to Kate. Only playful.

Alexis laughed while her father glared on. "Fine, I'll give you tonight, but don't get too cocky. One day Kate will know all of your most embarrassing stories."

They stared at each other almost menacingly before caving and grabbing slices of the cheesy, saucy pizza.

Kate was dumbfounded. They were…wonderful together. The knot that had been balled up inside of her loosened, falling away to let her sit back and enjoy the company. With a laugh she leaned in to take her own slice, humming with pleasure when she bit in.

"Oh my gosh, Rick, this is delicious!"

* * *

><p>As soon as they finished eating with leftovers packed away and dishes in the washer they made way to the couch. The two adults passed remote duties to Alexis, as well as the job of choosing the film, and wasted no time in cuddling into the corner of the couch. Kate had hesitated, wondering for a few moments what was appropriate for an evening with his daughter, but Rick pulled her into his side the second he sat.<p>

"Relax," he reminded her, rubbing his hand up and down her arm in an effort to calm her.

But his effort was pointless. She was already calm and relaxed. Dinner had been nothing short of fantastic, with great food and their great company. Alexis teased some of their more colorful adventures and she gave them hints of her own. She didn't know who had been more surprised of the atmosphere out of the three of them.

They were just over the halfway point of _Casablanca_ – Alexis said something about being on a classics binge for the past week – when Rick stood up declaring it was time for a bathroom break. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Be right back," before leaving the room.

She looked after him, a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Much better than she could have imagined.

Suddenly the sound stopped. When she snapped her head over Alexis was looking at her, but this time unsure, more so than earlier in the evening.

"Detec-….Kate?"

"Yeah?" Gee, that sounded inviting. "What's up?"

"I just um," the girl wrung her hands, turning them over each other, "I wanted to apologize for what I did. It was wrong of me, and it's your business. I shouldn't have pried."

Kate pushed off the back of the couch and scooted over to be closer to Alexis. "Alexis, you didn't do anything wrong."

"But I-"

"I can't blame you for being curious. I would be, too, if I were in your situation." She still looked uneasy. "Look, it's true that it makes me a little…uncomfortable, but…I'm not mad at you. At all."

"Really?"

"I swear. I would have told you one day. Probably." She sighed, "These things eventually come out," she knew from experience, "I just don't want you to worry about it, okay?"

Alexis nodded. "Still though, I'm sorry it put you in that position. To have to tell Dad – us, before you wanted to."

Kate nodded back, settling back into the couch cushions.

"Do you miss him?" Alexis's voice was barely a whisper. She was looking straight ahead at the screen, still paused, but she couldn't turn her head.

"Everyday," Kate's own voice was no louder when she replied. She had to fight off the tightness that always threatened when her thoughts drifted to her dad. "Your dad really loves you Alexis. Don't forget that."

Alexis turned her head, her eyes softened, "I won't. I promise."

Rick picked just the right moment to return, happy and excited to finish watching the film with the two of them. He slid in right beside Kate, pulled her right back to where she had been resting before with her head on his shoulder.

"Everything good?"

Kate pressed herself in just a little closer, "Everything's good."

"Hey," he whispered in her ear after Alexis started the movie again.

"Hmm?"

"Are you free next weekend? I want to take you somewhere."

"Should be. You have a dress code for me?"

"Nope," he shrugged. "Just one small request."

"What?" She laughed.

"Will you wear the heels again?"

Kate laughed again, lightly, nodding her head against the strong muscles of his upper arm.

* * *

><p><em>Yay! Another chapter down! Lots more to go! <em> This is probably the longest chapter yet...somehow...and we're almost at 200 reviews? You guys are great! Big hug for everyone! <em>  
><em>

__Thanks for reading and reviewing!__

**Tappin  
><strong>=)


	13. The Calm

_First of all, I'm shocked that this got written, let alone that it breaks 2,000 words. _

_Second, _for everyone who is still here, and especially for everyone who has recently added this story to alerts and left me reviews (you know who you are, and you're awesome), I'm sorry it's taken me so long. This story's been up and in-progress for over a year now, but I've had massive writer's block issues with it. Keep your fingers crossed that it's coming back to me.__

* * *

><p>Rick was surprisingly calm waiting for her. He had sent Alexis and his mother off on a shopping trip, just narrowly avoiding the drama that would be his mother meeting Kate, and had gotten himself together early. She said she would let him know when she was downstairs so they could get going, so he waited, leaning on the edge of the couch, phone in hand.<p>

The vibration in his palm startled him out of his thoughts. He had been thinking about his plan for the day and all the possible scenarios. It was an important day – date. The words were still shuffling around in his head as he grabbed his wallet and sunglasses and headed down in the elevator, to her.

He told himself he wasn't going to worry, stepped out of the building and saw her, relaxed and tan leaning against a mailbox. God, he thought, she was stunning. Every day he got to see just how incredible she was at work, but this was different.

Completely different. Polar opposite.

This woman standing before him, smiling at him, was not Detective Beckett. She was just Kate, and he was lucky enough to call her his girlfriend.

"You know, Castle, it's customary for the man to pick up the woman for a date. I had to backtrack to get here."

"Well it's more of a straight shot this way. I promise, I'll make it worth your while." He grinned, "You ready?"

Kate nodded, reaching up to swipe an errant strand of hair off of her face. "I have to admit, I'm a little excited. It's been a long time since I've been to the zoo."

"Oh, really? Katherine Beckett, steely homicide detective, is _excited_ to go to the zoo and see the animals?"

He swung their joined hands back and forth, tugged on her arm, teasing as they walked to the corner to catch a cab. She tugged back harder.

"What's wrong with looking forward to the zoo? I find it hard to believe that you, overgrown child, are not."

"Hmm, you sure you're not just excited for my company?"

"No," she shook her head, "I think just your wallet."

He huffed and took an overly dramatic depressed slump, "I knew it. I knew you were just after the money. So, what's the plan? Use me to get into the zoo, spend the day getting my hopes up only to drop me like a used napkin?"

"A used napkin? That's your best example?"

"What can I say, woman? You've rendered my writer's brain incapacitated."

"Oh please," she bumped his shoulder, "Don't be a drama queen."

"No, that would be my mother."

She giggled – actually giggled – as he hailed a cab and slid in beside her.

"You know," he turned in his seat to look at her when the cab pulled away from the curb and began the rest of the trip uptown to the park, "I haven't been looking forward to a day in the park since Alexis was little."

She hummed, the edges of her lips turning up ever so slightly. He loved that she was lighter like this. With him, and going to spend an afternoon at the Central Park Zoo. At first he wasn't sure if it was a good idea, wondered if it was too childish for a date, but when she mentioned that she liked low-key and casual, he ran with it. After all, who didn't enjoy the zoo?

They pulled up to the corner of 5th Avenue and Central Park South and Rick paid the driver. "You ever spend time in the park?" He asked as they approached the entrance to the zoo. It was fairly quiet for a Sunday afternoon, a decent line at the gate, but not too long – small children with their parents, a few other couples like them.

"I don't really get much time. Most days I'm just tired and don't feel like going anywhere. You should consider yourself lucky that I muster up the energy to see you."

"Trust me," he squeezed her hand as they stepped away from the ticket booth, "I consider myself very lucky."

She let out something of a 'hmpf' under her breath, tugged on his hand. "Come on Writer-boy, I want to go see the penguins."

"I'm really not loving this 'Writer-boy' thing. Can't we think of something better?"

"Stop whining, it's unflattering. Besides," she smiled up at him, "I kind of like it."

"Well, if _you_ like it…"

"Exactly. Now let's go."

He just couldn't stop the smile as she pulled him along the path to the penguin exhibit. 

* * *

><p>As they meandered through the zoo Rick's mind was busy thinking of ways to bring up Nikki. The day had been going so well, she was smiling, and...<em>laughing<em>, and he was nervous that what he had to say was going to totally ruin that.

They were making their way through the big cat enclosures, hand-in-hand, marveling at the cats and giggling at the toddler a few feet ahead of them who kept pointing out the different creatures to his parents. He wasn't really paying attention as she spoke - something about the tigers and how gorgeous they were, and she could tell.

"Hey," she nudged his shoulder, "you there?"

"Yeah, tigers. Honestly, they're kind of on my list."

"Your list?"

"Yeah, my list of things I don't want to kill me."

A gorgous flowing laugh eminated from her lips, her head tipped back, the sun casting a glow on her face.

"Stunning..."

"What?"

He stammered, fumbling with his hands to hang onto the zoo map and her hand at the same time as she laughed at him. "Nothing..."

"Castle, you're really afraid of tigers?"

"I wouldn't say 'afraid' so much as admirably cautious."

"Really?"

"Really," he told her, completely straight-faced. "The thing can eat my face."

"Well," she cocked her head, "Yeah, but it's not like you're chasing after one."

"Which is exactly why I am perfectly content to admire from afar. Big cat, small Rick...that, ah, no. Forget I said that."

She shook her head at him. "You're terrible."

"Yet, here you are."

Kate hummed, leaned in just a bit closer to his side. "Walking through the Central Park Zoo with Richard Castle. How did my life come to this?"

"You complaining?"

"No. Just...musing."

He hesitated to open his mouth, but what she said triggered where he needed to go anyway, and if he didn't do it soon he would chicken out and then he'd be up a creek. And she'd kill him if she found out after everything was official.

"Speaking of muses...I have something to talk to you about."

Not a word, just a curious, almost...afraid sort of look from her. He paused, grabbing her hand, and tugged her down to sit down on a bench just across from the Lion enclosure. They reminded him of her, he thought as he tried to find the right words. The words that wouldn't get him killed. Kate hadn't been too fond of the idea when he first suggested it, those couple months ago, and he had no clue if it had grown on her at all.

But he felt good about it. Nikki was his best character in a long time, maybe even better than Derrick Storm. He liked to think it was because of her. Yeah...he thought, he could do this.

"I've been writing."

"Right...that _is_ what you do, Rick."

"No, I mean," he huffed, "I've been working on a new book. The research I've been doing...with you? It's for this book."

Her face changed. She didn't look disappointed...no, but she looked interested in an 'I-still-can't-believe-you're-doing-this' way. Wasn't angry, but wasn't happy either.

But not angry was a good thing.

"Yeah, it's going really well. Really. I think she's my best character."

"She?"

"Well...yeah. She's based on you, remember?"

"Oh yeah..."

"Yeah," he gulped, "everyone who's read the drafts loves her. She's...god, Kate, I can't get enough of writing these days..." he paused to grab her hand from where it was clenched in a fist in her lap, "You are this amazing person, and you're so inspiring. I want to do Nikki justice-"

"Nikki?"

"The character. Nikki Heat."

"Nikki..._Heat_?"

Shit.

She was squinting her eyes, irritated, yet inquisitive, boring a hole into his face.

"Nikki Heat. She's a homicide detective. Like you. Smart, sexy. Amazingly good at her job."

"It's a _stripper name_."

"No it's not!"

"Yes. It is, Castle. Change it."

"No. Kate, I can't just...change her name!"

"Castle!"

This was not good. Nope. No good at all. He did not want it to go down like this, refused to let it happen. They were not going to fight about this in the middle of the zoo.

"Kate. She just..._is_ Nikki Heat. I can't change that now, I've already given her a history, she has depth and power. She's part of me now...just like you are. I wouldn't and couldn't change that for anything."

She huffed out an angry breath, "This is going to come back on me, you realize that, right?"

"I've given that considerable thought. Which is why I have already built up an arsenal of statements with my manager that will protect you and repeatedly explain that even though you are the inspiration-" he reached up a hand to tuck fly-away hairs behind her ear - "and you are an incredible inspiration, you are not Nikki Heat."

"Okay," she leaned back against the bench, flexed her fingers against the denim of her shorts. "So...even though I _do not_ like her name..."

"It's a good name! Think of the title possibilities-"

"Castle!" Silenced him. "Just...tell me more about her. Prep me. What am I in for?"

"Well where's the fun in that?"

She shook her head with something of a whine. "Really? You can't just-"

"No. I can't. I don't want you to know until it's perfect. I'm working on the last few chapters, and it should be done in the next couple of weeks. You get the first copy. I promise."

"Alright." She tossed her head side-to-side, considered the options before her. "Fine. But I'm warning you right now, if you think I'm intense...you better watch out when my mother finds out."

That hadn't occurred to him...

Her mother. Her lawyer mother who was probably exactly like her but with an extra dose of protective. He had no experience with people like her..._mothers_, like her. His own mother was the definition of a free spirit, and Meredith was, well...Meredith.

Shit.

"Your mother?" If he swallowed any harder, his tongue would've been gone.

"Mhmm," she sing-songed. "She's read your books. And I think she's pretty interested in the fact that you're basing one on her daughter."

"So, I'll make sure to get her an advanced copy, too?"

"Might be in your best interest."

"And you'll protect me from her potential upset over my creative depiction of her daughter."

She smirked. "I don't know Rick...might take some persuasion to ensure your safety."

"Detective Beckett! Are you suggesting a bribe?" He feigned shock but backed it off when she glared at him.

When his girlfriend glared at him.

"You like the tigers right?" He sprung up from the bench, her hand in his, and pulled her along in his hurry. "Come on, let's go look at the tigers!"

"Rick!" She laughed, yanked back on his arm to get him to slow down as they came up to the fence again.

When he turned back to her she was grinning. "Just trying to please you Detective."

In a move that was so _not_ 'Detective Beckett' she swung her arms up and around his shoulders, hands clasped at the back of his neck. "I do think it's kind of cool that you're writing a book on me."

"I'm glad."

"But, I'm not a fan of the publicity. I know that's what you do, so...I'm trying, but," she looked down, almost embarrassed before meeting his eyes again, "I'm going to need some reassurance from time to time."

Rick dipped his head down, gently kissed her lips, her forehead, and pulled back to look at her again. This woman was his. _With_ him.

He was going to do everything he could to make sure she was okay with this. She deserved it, and Nikki deserved it.

_Heat Wave_ would be his best book yet, because of her.

"You got it."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for sticking with me! Amazing readers, you!<em>

_Let me know what ya' think!_

_**Tappin  
><strong>=)_


	14. The Storm, part 1

_ I know. Two chapters in a week. Don't faint! You guys are so great, and you deserve quicker updates than I've been able to give. _

_Probably surprised my awesome beta, SinningBySilence._

* * *

><p>He was in the middle of the last chapter's worth of editing for <em>Heat Wave<em> when his phone rang. It vibrated and jittered across his desktop, but he was too in-the-zone to stop and answer. Rick kept on with his reading and editing, making those last minute decisions on Nikki's words to Rook, how the journalist would weasel his way into her apartment, all the things that he thought he had figured out, now needed to be finalized before sending the chapter off to his editor. He was too invested in it to talk.

The phone rang again a few minutes later. Then vibrated three times with text messages, and one more phone call.

What the hell?

After fifteen minutes of focusing on the screen and ignoring his cell the writer finally lifted his legs off of the desktop where they were resting, pushed up in his chair and reached for the phone.

_Three missed calls_

Two texts from Ryan:

_Castle answer your phone!_

_Come on, Castle, it's important._

One from Esposito:

_Dude, it's Beckett._

The phone jolted again in his hand just as he finished reading the last message.

Esposito.

"What's going on?"

"Castle, it's Beckett. You need to get down here."

"Down where? What do you mean?" He was really trying to _not_ panic. He was. But he wasn't normally good in these sorts of situations. When Alexis was seven and her appendix threatened to burst, she was calmer than he. Hell, when he sprained his own wrist while trying out escape plans for Derrick Storm she had to keep him from panicking on the drive to the hospital.

"We were going to pick up a suspect. Found him all drugged up and hallucinating."

"Javier, what happened?"

"She got stabbed, man. Not pretty. Ryan went with her in the ambulance. They should be at the hospital now. Think they were going to take her right into surgery."

"So, it's bad?"

"I don't know, man. But you need to get yourself ready. I just finished dropping our guy in holding and I'm coming to get you. Be outside. Five minutes."

He couldn't even speak before Esposito hung up on him - probably in the middle of traffic trying to get to him.

Get to him...so he could get to her. Images of Kate bleeding out in the street swam in his vision. The precious blood spilling from a wound, her skin paling...he could almost smell it. Cold and metallic. He could be sick.

As quickly as he could without hurting himself, he gathered the necessities - phone, wallet, keys. Did he need anything else? Would Kate? Probably not. He grabbed a jacket with extra pockets. It was the middle of the summer, hot outside, but if they had to give Kate's belongings to someone, he wanted to make sure they were safe.

God, was she even safe?

He had to get there.

The second his foot hit the sidewalk outside of his building Esposito was pulling up, siren on. Rick hopped into the passenger seat without hesitation and couldn't even meet the detective's eyes as he swallowed past the worry in his throat.

"Dude," Esposito's voice broke his focus on the street in front of them, "she'll be fine. This is Beckett, she ain't going down without a fight."

"Yeah," he strangled out, "I know."

But he was still nervous as hell.

* * *

><p>Esposito sped through traffic to get them to Bellevue Medical Center in under another fifteen minutes. Had it not been for the gumball they would've broken several traffic laws, but when it came to Beckett, neither of them cared.<p>

After skidding into a parking space and practically running to the entrance, the two found Ryan waiting, evidence of his attempts to help staunch her blood loss still on his shirt.

None of them mentioned it.

"Come on."

They followed Ryan into the hospital and up to the waiting room. A few others were there as well, all looking worried for loved ones or friends. Rick was sure that none felt as terrified as he did. It wasn't like an appendectomy at all. Not a bit like the routine procedure to remove his daughter's useless organ. No. His girlfriend was lying on a table somewhere as a surgeon tried to repair the damage some psycho inflicted on her.

"Did they say how bad it is?" He asked Ryan, "How...deep, or whatever?"

Ryan sighed, Esposito clapped a gentle hand on his shoulder in support. "The EMT said that it looked pretty deep, but not life threatening. The guy caught her in her side and probably got a piece of some of her abdominal muscles, which is why they're so concerned. On her right side, so they want to go in a little further and make sure her liver or kidney isn't damaged. But, Castle, they said she's got a really good chance. This won't kill her."

"Okay," his voice was shaky, unsure. "But she's in surgery?"

"Yeah. Took her back as soon as we got here. They said it could be a while."

"Alright." He nodded, ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to sit down, desperately, to get a hold of himself, but if he did he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. He had to call Alexis - she'd worry. His mother, too.

Then it hit him.

"Did you call her mom?"

Esposito nodded, "called her as soon as they got in the ambulance. She's on her way."

Again he let out a breath, "I'm ah, I'm going to go wait outside for her. And I need to call my mother and Alexis, too."

"Dude, you've never even met her mother, have you?"

"Nope," he shook his head, cracked the slightest of smiles, "But now's as good a time as any, right?" He turned and walked back down and through the double doors, took up a spot leaning against the wall, facing the parking lot. He wanted to be the first person her mother saw when she got here. He could only imagine how she was feeling after getting that phone call.

Rick called his mother, let her know what was going on. She offered to pick up Alexis from her mall trip with her friends and be over as soon as possible. Her reassurances that everything would be alright helped calm him down...mostly. Though his heart started pounding again when he spotted her quickstep through the parking lot.

No question the woman was her mother. The two looked almost identical. Same dark eyes, the strong cheekbones. They even walked the same way.

She was getting ready to pass him when he stepped over and into her path. "Mrs. Beckett."

Her eyes were frantic and moist when she looked up, widened when she realized who he was.

"Mr. Castle!"

"Please," he reached out a hand. "Call me Rick."

"Hi," she tried to smile, failed, and shook her head as she moved to go inside. "Um, I need to go inside, Katie-"

"I know. She's...she's going to be okay."

"You're sure?" Kate's mother's hand tightened in his. He was sure that if she let go she'd quake with anxiety.

"Ryan said they took her into surgery as soon as they got here. He was with her, the whole time in the ambulance."

"Good," she sniffled, "that's good. He's a...he's a good man."

"Yeah, he is."

"Do you, um...do you mind if we head in?"

"No, no! Not at all. Here, I'll show you were they are."

Escorting her in and up to the waiting room, he could tell she was scared. Maybe even more than he was, rightfully so. It had been half an hour and there was no word. He couldn't even tell her how it had happened because he was afraid to know, himself. The two reached the waiting room, this time Ryan and Esposito had rounded up four cups of hospital-grade coffee, and were waiting at a cluster of chairs in the corner.

"Mrs. B." Esposito stood as soon as he saw her mother, even pulled her in for a hug.

"Hello, Javier. Kevin."

Ryan only fluttered his fingers in a wave then went back to gripping his coffee cup, leaned over his knees.

"Here," Rick pulled out one of the chairs for her, Esposito picking one of the paper cups and handing it to her.

"How did this happen?" She questioned. Johanna Beckett looked between the three of them, seeking answers, her foot tapping a rhythm-less pattern on the linoleum floor.

The habit reminded him of Kate.

Esposito spoke up to explain this time. "We've been working on a case for a few days, don't know if she told you. We got a lead this morning on the victim's old drug dealer and we went to pick him up. It was supposed to be quick but he was high. We don't know what on, yet, but whatever it was made him freak out. Pulled a knife the second he opened the door and grabbed her."

"Oh, god." She pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob, but nodded for him to keep going.

"She was great. Kept her cool, as best as possible, and tried to talk him down. We thought it was going to be fine but he just...snapped. I'm not sure he really meant to hurt her, he was just scared, but...well, we're here."

A shudder ran through her body and the tears started to fall.

Clearly uncomfortable, Ryan and Esposito stood. "We're going to go call the precinct. See if he's talking at all." Ryan squeezed her shoulder as he spoke in passing, and the two stepped out to find out what was going on with the case.

What was he supposed to do?

He'd only known this woman for ten minutes. Who was he to tell her what to think? He could feel his own eyes welling up, clamped them shut to try and relax. He needed to get control of his lungs again. Kate had been a hostage. A drug dealer had grabbed her and stabbed her.

"You know, this is not how I was planning on making my first impression when I finally got to meet you."

Her voice was watery and small, but it sounded like something of a laugh. Kind of...

"Katie and I spoke last night. She was supposed to ask you if you'd join us for dinner sometime next week. I was looking forward to it."

"She hadn't even gotten the chance to ask me. I was planning on meeting her for lunch today, but..." He sighed, "I was going to go in. I should have been with her, but my publisher called and I had to write-"

Johanna reached over and took his hand. She was offering him a warm, thin smile when he turned his head to look at the woman who looked so much like the woman he loved. "It's not your fault, Rick. It's what she does."

"You know, I write about this all the time. I picture it and shape it and make it sound...almost exciting. She's so much more than that, and I hadn't realized-until today, that it could happen to her."

"Rick, she's been a detective for the past six years. For the two before that she was the uniform on the streets in the middle of the night. I _still_ forget that this can happen to her. Every time it hits me like a ton of bricks. You love her?"

He did.

He didn't say anything, but she squeezed his hand.

"Then it's never going to change. You'll get a phone call and feel like you're falling. It'll ring at some odd hour and your stomach will sink. It doesn't go away. Not when you care." She stopped to wipe away another tear and take a sip of the coffee sitting in front of her.

Ryan and Esposito walked back in, right on the heels of a tall gentleman wearing dark blue scrubs, still with a scrub cap on his head. "Right over here," Ryan called out to the two of them and met them halfway with the doctor.

"Doctor Miller, this is Johanna Beckett. Detective Beckett's mother."

The doctor smiled. "Mrs. Beckett, I'm pleased to tell you that your daughter's alright. She's going to be in a bit of pain for a few weeks but she pulled through just fine."

Rick felt as if all the air were sucked out of his lungs. She was okay. She would _be_ okay. "When can we see her?" He cracked out.

"I'd say about another half an hour. They're just finishing up in the OR and then she'll be taken to recovery. She won't be awake for about another hour though, at least."

"That's okay," Johanna smiled, "I just...just want to see her."

"Well as soon as she's settled a nurse will come and get you."

The doctor turned to walk away but Rick ran up and grabbed his arm. "Is there anyway we can get her a private room? She's not a fan of crowds and I'd rather she be as comfortable as possible."

Doctor Miller began to open his mouth, looking as if he was going to argue but the writer cut him off. "Money's not an issue. I'm taking care of it."

"Oh, Rick," Johanna crooned beside him, "you don't have to."

"I want to. She deserves it. I'd do it for Ryan or Esposito, too."

"Really, bro?" Esposito quirked, "I'm touched."

"Yeah, Castle. That's big of you." Ryan added.

Rick nodded to Kate's mother, "I want it to be as easy as possible for her, and that won't happen if there are extra people staring at her while she's here." He swallowed, dropped to a whisper that only she could hear. "I care about her."

"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Castle. I'm sure we can work something out. By the way," he paused before leaving again, "I love your books."

The two detectives excused themselves to go back to the precinct, asking Castle to keep them posted, saying they'd be by as soon as they were free. Rick moved back to where they had been seated, with her mother, the two of them still just a little on edge, but looking decidedly more relaxed.

Kate was going to be okay.

* * *

><p><em>And guess what!? I have another chapter DONE already! But really that's only because it's this chapter, extended. So I'll post it in a couple of days. :)<em>

_**Tappin**  
><em>


	15. The Storm, part 2

_Second half of the last chapter! _

_I have an exam tonight, so you guys get a chapter. Woo!_

* * *

><p>Everything was dark. Every part of her felt heavy as lead and there was no way she was going to move. It took a few minutes of working through the haze in her brain to remember. Went to pick up their suspect, got stabbed. That was just fantastic, she thought. No way to know how long she'd been out for, or how bad the injury was. Opening her eyes was just too much work, and she knew from experience that she wouldn't be able to handle the lighting yet, anyway.<p>

She started contemplating the hot numbness in her side when the voices pervaded her thoughts.

"I really thought she was going to kill me, you should've seen her face."

"Oh, Rick. I've seen that face. Don't forget that I did raise her."

She could hear him laugh. That warm laugh that always made her smile.

"I don't know how I got so lucky but…" His thumb was rubbing circles on her palm. She hadn't even realized he was holding her hand. "…she's amazing."

Part of her wanted to smack him for saying that in front of her mother. The other part of her wanted to kiss him for it.

Their voices started to fade as whatever they had pumped her full of started to pull her back under. She wanted to stay, wake up more, listen to Rick and her mother, but she was so tired. Hadn't even been fully awake and she didn't have the strength to fight off sleep.

As she drifted off she wished she could join in, tell him how amazing he was, too.

* * *

><p>The next time Kate came around it hurt more. A lot more. Her head was pounding, her mouth dry, and felt full of cotton. Her right side was on fire. She sucked in a deep breath, deep as she could before pulling her eyes tighter together. It was going to hurt, and she knew it.<p>

She tried to hum, but it came out as more of a moan, and as soon as her eyes cracked open and the while light leaked in, she hissed.

"Oh, sweetheart. Come on, you're okay." Her hand was taken – her mother. The other hand came up to soothe over her forehead and hair. "You're alright, Katie. Can you hear me?"

"Mmm." She managed, "Burns."

"I know, I know. Let me call the nurse."

She grasped her mother's hand tighter. "No. Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise, I just hit the call button. Someone should be in in a second."

Kate sighed and tried to move, but her torso was numb.

"Here," her mother was beside her head in an instant holding out a Styrofoam cup with a lid and straw, "they don't want you to move yet, but you can have a drink." The straw was angled in for her, just like her mom used to do when she was sick. She assumed the man who walked in as her mother was putting the up down was her surgeon.

"Detective Beckett, I'm Doctor Miller. I performed your surgery. Do you remember what happened?" He moved to stand on the side of her bed opposite her mother – the side near her surgery site.

"Yeah. How is it?" She asked. Thanks to the water she had her throat back, which made speaking so much easier. "I'm not allowed to move yet?"

He shook his head 'no.' "I'm afraid not. The knife managed to miss your liver and right kidney, just barely, but the surrounding tissue was damaged. I'd rather you stay here for a bit, at least a few more hours. Give everything a chance to heal a little bit before we get you sitting up. I promise, by tonight, we'll give it a try."

The doctor rambled on more specifics about her medication, the rehab she was going to have to do, how long they were going to keep her, but she didn't really hear any of it. She was trying too hard not to lose it with a doctor and nurse watching her.

"And like I said, we want to keep your pain manageable, so if it gets to be too much in between doses don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks, but…it's okay for now. I think I'd like to be lucid for a while."

"Whatever you need Detective." He nodded to her mother, "Let someone know if we can help with anything."

She gave them a polite smile as they turned to leave before letting out a quivering breath. "Mom," she whispered.

"I know, sweetheart. You don't need to put on your brave face for me, let it out." Her mom shifted so that she was in front of the door, blocking the view, and rested a hand on her daughter's cheek, the other still gripping her hand.

"I got stabbed, Mom." The few stray tears ran down her face in uncomfortable tracks because of her position. She moved her free hand up to swipe at them, whimpering when the pain rippled down her side. "I got stabbed, like Dad."

"No, no, honey. Not like Dad. You're okay." Johanna was trying and failing at holding in her own tears at her daughter's cries. Katie never cried, had never sounded so scared before. "You're going to be just fine in a few weeks. Come on now. Calm down. It'll just make things hurt more."

She nodded her head against the starched hospital pillowcase. "I thought I heard him." Her voice was much more calm when she found her breath again. "When I was in the ambulance. It was just Ryan, telling me to hang on because I know I was fading but-" Kate looked up into her mother's own red-rimmed eyes. "It sounded like Dad. So much like him. I thought it was him."

Her mother didn't have a response, just continued to gently rub her thumb back and forth over her cheekbone while she cried. "I'm so sorry, Katie."

She snuffed and sniffled, did everything she could to not work herself up to the point of not being able to breathe. "I had people there. With me? Esposito caught me and Ryan never left…but Dad was alone. All by himself and trying to get to us, and I can't-" her mother's loving hand began to stroke her hairline again, helping to keep her calm, "-I just miss him."

"I know you do. I do, too. Sweetheart, your dad would be so proud of you."

"Thanks, I just…I didn't think it would ever hit me like that." Kate sighed and turned her head into her mother's touch. "How long was I out?"

"Only about an hour and a half after the surgery. You did good, Katie."

"Hm. Got stabbed though, didn't I?"

"Yeah," she argued, "but you're alright."

Kate regretted what she said as soon as her mother finished speaking. Yeah, she got stabbed. But she was still alive, and her dad wasn't here to hold her hand like her mom was. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't." She cracked a smile. "It's okay. You sure you don't need anything?"

"I'm okay. You're here."

"Aww, you're sappy when you're drugged."

She giggled. _She giggled_? "Just a little bit."

"I'd say those meds are working pretty well for you. I hope you can get control of that, everyone should be by to see you soon."

"Everyone?"

"Well, Rick, for one. He's been pretty worried about you."

"He was here, wasn't he? I think…I think I heard him."

"He was here until about twenty minutes ago. His mother and daughter stopped in but he was walking them down to their car. Something about getting real food for when you're allowed to eat later."

She huffed. "Ridiculous."

"He loves you, Katie. I know, I know," she begged off when Kate scowled, "too early to hear it. But even though I met him for the first time, frantic and upset that my daughter was in surgery, I could tell. Don't panic."

"I'm not panicking."

"Yeah. You kind of are. I'm your mother; I can see it in your eyes. But that's okay, because I'm not sure there's much you could do to change that right now."

Kate rolled her eyes. She was about to chide her mother for being so nosy when she realized it was just the two of them in the hospital room.

"Mom, why…" she tried to crane her neck around the older woman's figure, but she was fairly certain that there wasn't even space for another bed in the room. "…there's no one else here."

"Rick again," she sing-songed. "He wanted you to have your own room. Took care of it personally."

"He did?"

Richard Castle, that childish, frustrating, adorable man had gotten her a private hospital room? He was….something else, she thought.

"Yeah," she sighed. "He really cares about you Katie."

"I know." She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face and made her mother smirk at her. "Just, don't be too nice to him. It'll go to his head."

Johanna leaned down and pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Why don't you talk to him yourself?"

Kate looked over to the door at the comment, and sure enough, there he was. Leaning against the frame, a worried yet happy look on his face.

"I'm going to go get you some things from your apartment. I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Kate nodded and watched her mother go. She was still tired, her eyes slowly growing heavy again, but the little pat to his shoulder did not go unnoticed.

"Hey," he smiled at her, the grin only half-hiding the dark, heavy bags that had shown up under his eyes.

"Hey," she called back. Carefully, she reached her arm out to him, beckoning him closer. "You been here this whole time?"

Rick took her hand, squeezed it then brought it to his lips. "Haven't left since I got here. You scared me, Kate. Badly."

"I know. 'M sorry. Wasn't really planning on getting stabbed today."

He was trying so hard not to over-do it. But just the same, he stared at her, gaze unmoving from her face. Kate couldn't help but to stare back, taking in everything about him in the moment. It had only been about two and a half months since they made things a little more official, and yet he was there - had been there since someone called to tell him what happened to her.

"Are you feeling okay?" He was still holding her hand, ever so lightly gripping her fingers in his.

"It's not terrible. I can deal with it for now."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Castle. Someone's gotta man-up around here."

"Given that you're just a little high on morphine right now, I'm going to forgive that one." He reached behind himself to pull the chair closer to her bed, sat, not for a beat breaking his eyes from hers. "They tell me you're an old pro at this. Your mom...kind of implied that this has happened before."

"No, not really. Well," she cocked her head...kind of, against the pillow, "I've been injured on the job before. Never been stabbed though, so I can cross it off my list now."

"Really? Do you have a bucket list of wounds or something?"

"I didn't mean it like that," she sighed, grimacing slightly at the tug in her side - she'd have to get a look at it soon, she supposed. "I mean, I've gotten beaten up, had a few concussions. I'd gotten grazed by a bullet once before. I also sprained my ankle during my second week as a detective. I'm not too proud of that one," she quirked. "I promise, Rick, this is the worst injury I've had, and even this isn't too bad."

"Yeah, then why do you keep wincing when you try to move?"

"Because I got stabbed Rick! It's going to hurt, but I'm okay. I can handle it. I promise. Just...thank you for being here."

He smiled. Still a little nervous-looking, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Always. Now, you think you can handle a kiss, or should I settle for holding your hand?"

"Mm, why don't you come over here and find out?"

She has barely finished her tease before he was leaning over her, caressing the side of her face and pressing his lips to hers. The second she gave into him it all her pain faded away. After he pulled away, his forehead lingering on hers, she whispered up "Best medicine I've ever had," a smile on her face.

He chuckled, yet looked almost upset at the prospect of distancing himself from her to sit in the chair again. "Don't look so miserable, at least you can sit up," she needled him.

"They'll get you upright again within a couple of hours. You'll just have to live with being horizontal for a while longer."

Kate grumbled, "Just remember, I can't do anything fun while _horizontal_ for a while, Writer-boy."

"Why, Detective Beckett, what pray tell are you implying?"

"You're smart, Castle, you figure it out." Kate even let herself laugh with him, content to just enjoy his company for as along as she was allowed visitors. Minutes passed in a comfortable silence before he spoke again.

"I was thinking, you shouldn't be alone when they release you."

"Rick, they're not going to release me for at least another couple of days. I've got time."

"I know, but I wanted to let you know, you are welcome to stay at my place. I have a guest room, if you want it, and then your mother won't have to take off of work to stay with you since I write from home anyway. I have a rather impressive library and collection of DVDs to choose from, video games should you so desire, and hundreds of channels to surf." She tried to speak, argue, but he cut her off. "I'm just saying, it's an option."

"You really thought about this, huh?"

"Had some time while you were still out. Just think about it. Like you said you have at least another day to decide."

"Alright," she nodded. "I'll think about it." Then she gave it another beat's thought. "My mother didn't put you up to this, did she?"

"No, she didn't, why?"

"Oh," Kate thought back over her mothers words, those since she woke up and since she first started talking about Rick with her. Johanna Beckett was arguably, Richard Castle's biggest cheerleader when it came to her daughter. "No reason."

* * *

><p><em>Yeah, I've got more in my head. Hopefully I'll get it written out, soon.<em>

_**Tappin  
><strong>=)_


	16. The Recovery

The elevator doors slid open and she stepped out behind him. He was being ridiculous, as she told him so the second they started their leave from the hospital. The nurses were kind enough to let her walk out on her own but Rick was having none of it. Her ridiculous writer forced her into a wheelchair, didn't let her move a muscle to get into the car and didn't want her to have to walk upstairs either. She had told him that there was an elevator and walking wasn't that big of a deal, but he was adamant.

It was only when she threatened to go back to her own apartment that he gave in and let her walk on her own – on the condition that he carry everything. Thankfully her mother had already dropped off her suitcase, Kate thought as she watched him struggle with a flower arrangement from the boys, the overnight bag that she had at the hospital, and the bag of medical supplies for her wound.

She leaned against the wall beside his door as he fumbled to find his key. Her side was starting to hurt – she probably needed a pain pill. Maybe walking the whole way would have been too much if just going from the car to the elevator to the apartment was trying? Her doctor had warned her this could happen – that she'd feel it sooner, and longer, than she would like. The slice was deep and she was lucky it was just deep tissue damage, her guts were still in tact, but still…

Did deep tissue damage have to suck so much?

"You need another pill."

"Hm?" She popped her head up and found him staring at her, apartment door open midway.

"Starting to hurt?" He glanced down and she realized that her hand had come to rest on the site.

Whoops.

"Little bit."

"Come on," he left her standing there for a moment as he dropped everything in the entryway before coming back and guiding her in by her elbow. "Let's get you changed and drugged."

"You know, that's not exactly ideal phrasing when you're talking to a cop."

"Well, you're not on duty, so it doesn't count."

"Oh, really?" She quirked as he helped her change into a tank with the sweatpants she'd been wearing and settled her under the covers of his bed. "I can stay in the guest room no problem, Castle," she called out to him as he moved into the bathroom.

He yelled back that his bed was more comfortable, so why shouldn't she use it, as she heard him handling the bottles of pills and filling a glass with water. He came back with her prescription and glass and sat down beside her where she lie on his bed. "Just take it, Kate. Trust me, I want you here."

She smiled, just a little thing at his sweetness and took the pill. "It's going to make me tired."

"That's okay."

Kate sunk down deep into his sinfully comfortably mattress and sheets. "I'm going to completely knock out."

"Fine with me."

"I could be out for hours."

"I can wake you up for dinner." His fingers gently pushed back a strand of hair hanging limp on her face.

"And I could use some company for a little bit."

She was certain it was one of the biggest smiles she'd ever seen on his face. "You got it."

Quickly, he toed off his shoes and circled the bed to climb in beside her. She was lying on her left side, the thick patch of gauze making an odd lump on the right. He came up behind her, she wiggled back, tucked herself into him.

Where was he supposed to put his arm?

He didn't want to rest it on her injury, though it was probably covered with so many layers that she wouldn't feel it. Instead of resting his arm hung in midair – until Kate reached behind herself and laced her fingers in hers, dropping their joined arms over the length of her body.

"Are you sure?"

"Can't feel it, Castle. It's fine."

"Promise?"

"Promise," she turned her head back to look at him, "this is good."

He tilted his head down, gently kissed her forehead, her lips, "Good." 

* * *

><p>Two weeks after her attack and Kate was on the mend. Again, she found herself following her stubbornly sweet boyfriend into the elevator, only this time after her first physical therapy session.<p>

"Are you sure you're alright?" She was grateful to him for letting her stay at the loft, for taking care of her, but the hovering was starting to get on her nerves. "You can wait a little longer before going back again."

"I'm fine Rick, just tired. And I really can't, the whole point of it is to get stronger, and that won't happen if I baby myself."

"But-"

"No," she stopped him. "I know you've been reading up on treatments and exercises, so don't pretend you don't know exactly what I'm talking about." She was trying so hard not to come off as angrily as she was. Being tired quickly, and sore and stiff was just getting really old, fast. "I'm sorry," she sighed, "I just want to go back to work."

His arm came around her shoulders, gently pulling her into his side, "I know you do," he pressed his cheek to her hair. "How about we clean you up, get some coffee in you, see if you feel like venturing out again today?"

That sounded like a wonderful plan to Kate. The strength exercises that the therapist had put her through left her muscles lax, her body coated in a thin, uncomfortable sheen of sweat. Logically, she knew that it was inevitable, that one little knife wound would leave her weak and force her to fight to get back to her usual self – especially considering where she was cut – but it still felt unfair.

"Sounds good. Maybe something quiet though. Museum maybe?"

"Sure. I think I still have annual passes for the Met somewhere."

"You? The Met?" She tossed him a quizzical look. This man, the overgrown child whom she oh so often had to scold to behave had annual passes to an art museum. "Not too boring for you?"

"Hey," he held his hand to his chest in mock insult, "I'll have you know that I have long been a patron of many museums in this city, the Met included. Keep up the attitude, see if I take you to any of them."

"Oh!" She cried, overdramatically, and ignored the scowl on his face, "How ever will I survive? Make the coffee, Castle. I'm just going to go clean up and change." She let her hand slip from his grasp, he headed for the kitchen, she his bathroom.

After grabbing a fresh shirt and leggings, she shed her sweaty clothing and turned side-on in front of the bathroom mirror. Her hand quivered ever so slightly as she peeled at the medical tape holding on the patch of gauze just above her hip. The line was still red and raised, only a few bluish-purple stitches still pursing her skin. It still wasn't pretty, but it was a hell of a lot better than the sight Rick found a week and a half ago. Somehow, he had convinced her to let him clean and redress the cut, and he froze at the sight of the bright red line, marred with surgical thread and a crust of blood.

He had to leave the room while she took care of it.

The dark purple washcloth she had brought from her apartment was still hanging over the small towel rack on the wall – she soaked it through with warm water, gently rid herself of the grime from physical therapy and dabbed at the sensitive mark on her side. The stitches were supposed to dissolve on their own as she healed, but she knew it would take longer for the thin scar to disappear.

Raised voices broke her concentration on the mark. She hurriedly donned fresh clothes, pulled her hair back into a bun and went to investigate. When she reached the precipice of his office, she froze.

Rick, arguing with a lithe redhead she could only assume to be Alexis's mother…

"Have you even told Alexis you were here?"

"Of course I did, Ricky! She said something about a hotel but why would I want to do that? We always have so much fun together-" Her voice was playful, she was clearly not paying attention to the frustrated look on his face, the tension in his shoulders and jaw.

But what the hell was she supposed to do? She was _his_ ex-wife.

"Meredith, you cannot stay here. I just told you, Kate is staying here and she's recovering-"

"Oh, come on, Ricky, you expect me to believe that? What's wrong with you."

Kate stepped into the living room, eight feet between her and the pair. "Nothing's wrong with him. And unless my hearing has suddenly gone bad I believe he just explained himself to you, as if he should have to." She honestly wasn't trying to be so harsh and sarcastic, but this was his house. He was _hers_. Her heart to defend.

"Excuse me," Meredith cracked. "Ricky, really? Your little girlfriend doesn't worry me, we can still-"

"No." Rick strong-armed her away from him, one firm hand on her shoulder. "I told you, you can't do this. Not anymore. The guest room or a hotel; your choice. I'll even call for you."

The redhead huffed, turned to face Kate. "I don't know who you think you are, but I'll give you a little warning. Don't get attached." She breezed past Kate, plucked up her bags and perched herself against the door. "Ricky," she called, "do tell Alexis that I'll speak to her tonight. Enjoy your evening, Kate." With a little flit of her fingers she was gone, just the sound of her heels clicking in the hall echoing back at them.

"Kate I'm so sorry."

"No," she shook her head, trying to get rid of the images her mind was conjuring up of Meredith….all over Rick. "No, it's fine. You didn't-"

"It's not fine." He crossed the room, took her hand and led her to sit beside him on the couch. "She just does this. Every few months she decides she wants to "be here for Alexis" and comes into town. But, ah," he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, "we used to have a thing."

"A thing?"

"Yeah, we'd have fun because for a long time even though we weren't together, neither of us were attached to anyone else, so we'd-"

"Have fun," she finished. "I get it. You were married to her, she's Alexis's mom. She's always going to be a part of your life."

"But that doesn't mean our relationship is going to be the same. I promise, no more fooling around. She's gone, and even if she shows up again in the morning, nothing is going to happen."

Kate stared into his sincere blue eyes. Two windows to his soul, completely stripped and honest for her in the moment. He had been quick, didn't hesitate at all when Meredith showed up – she had only been in the bathroom for a handful of minutes so the woman had to have shown up right after they walked inside. But it was exactly that – the fact that he was quick to _do something_ that made her think, really think about everything.

She was spending her recovery at his loft. They had been together for months. Richard Castle.

She was dating Richard Castle. Sleeping in his bed. Sleeping with him – though it had only been once before she was injured.

"Hey. Kate, you in there?" His voice was a warm whisper, his hand just feathering over her own.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm ah…I'm okay. We're okay, Castle."

"Yeah?" A tentative smile graced his face, his fingers frozen over the back of her hand.

"Yeah. But," she carefully pulled herself away and up off of the couch. Just…not ready for the thoughts twisting around in her head, and certainly not ready to bring them up with him. "I think I'm going to go take a nap for a bit. Do you mind? I ah…don't want to fall asleep on you in the middle of the Met."

"No, of course. Go ahead," but he snagged her hand before she could step further away, brought it to his lips. "Wake you in an hour?"

She nodded and went back into the bedroom. Slipping under the covers – his covers – stirred everything in her again. It was wonderful here. His mother was great, his daughter was sweet. Then Rick….well, he was Rick.

He had protected their relationship from his ex-wife, made sure she was comfortable in his home….and he was giving her space. As she drifted off she thought of him, and whatever future they _might_ have together.

She could have sworn her mother was in her ear whispering 'I told you so.' 

* * *

><p>Hours later, knocking on the doorframe pulled her from her deep concentration reviewing files from cold cases. She may not have been on 'active,' but that didn't mean she couldn't give victims some attention, still. Looking up found the writer's daughter peering in with wary eyes, one hand precariously balancing two mugs of what smelled like hot chocolate.<p>

"Kate?"

"Hey," she slid the more gruesome crime scene photos back into the folder, "what's up, Alexis?"

"Can I come in?"

Can she come in? It was her home. _Her_ father's bedroom – as if that fact weren't making Kate feel slightly awkward. "Sure. I thought you'd be spending some time with your mom."

Alexis made a face, her features scrunched up in distaste, and said nothing to the comment.

"Brought you some hot chocolate. I know it's summer but-"

"I love hot chocolate. No matter the temperature."

The girl smiled and settled herself stiffly on her dad's side of the bed.

They had their own sides now?

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Dad told me what happened."

"Alexis, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, I told her you were here and she practically sprung into action to get herself here. And she's not exactly the kind of person who flies across the country unless there's something she wants."

"Well, you're here." Kate sipped at her cocoa as Alexis clenched and unclenched her hands around her mug.

"My attention is here. She likes to show up if she gets wind that I'm particularly busy and don't have time to talk. Which, of course means that to keep that from happening I have to pretend that I'm not crazy studying or something when I actually am." She shook her head, pushed herself past the thoughts clouding her purpose. "I just wanted to let you know, I'm sorry things got messy because she came."

Kate let out a gentle sigh, rested her mug on the side table and turned to do the same with Alexis's before making the girl look her in the eyes. "Alexis, it's not your fault. Really, everything is okay, and your dad and I didn't really even fight. So I don't know if he said anything to you that made you think that, but we're okay."

"I'm glad you're staying here. To get better, I mean. Dad said you're going to go home at the end of the week?"

"Yeah. I am. Let you guys have your regular lives back." The debacle of Meredith's presence for the past two days Kate had decided that she needed to get back to her own space. Realizing that it had less to do with his ex herself, but rather the notion that _Kate_ was the one putting a hitch in the Castle's daily routine had gotten her thinking. She knew she was getting to love the loft…and the people in it, but it was just too soon and she needed to get her own head clear. "Not that you guys aren't great, but I think things should get back to normal for a while…for all of us."

Alexis nodded. "I hope we didn't scare you off." She chuckled, "Dad can be a little crazy."

"No, not at all. Well…yeah, you're right. But it's a good crazy." The detective gave Alexis's shoulder a little nudge. "I just haven't seen my apartment in almost a month. I should probably make sure nothing hazardous is growing in my fridge. But hey, I had this idea and I was wondering how you'd feel about it."

Kate thought back to the conversation she'd had on the phone with her mother that morning, and considered the obvious discomfort Alexis had over her own.

"I'm spending the day with my mom this weekend. Just a 'whatever' kind of day, but if you don't have anything better to do, you're welcome to join us for a while."

The younger girl looked up at her, hopeful eyes and a timid grin. "You're sure?"

"Sure. You see, apparently your dad talks about you a lot," Alexis popped a laugh, "and I _might_ have picked up the habit and my mom has been asking about you. It's totally up to you, I'm sure you've got plans with friends and things to do that are far more interesting than your dad's girlfriend and her lawyer mother, but-"

"I'd love to Kate. Thanks for asking me."

"No problem," Kate whispered as they went back to the hot chocolate. The little voice inside of her that still feared commitment piped up that she was making a mistake, but she was happy. She was…getting to love Rick, and Alexis. Only four months in and aside from missing her apartment, she didn't miss _being_ alone. 

* * *

><p><em>So, I've got something of an outline, but please let me know what you think and anything you think I should include.<em>

_Thank you, awesome readers._


	17. The Invitations

_Yes, the story is still going. In fact, I have half of what's left completed and I'm determined to finish within the next week or two and post the chapters a few days apart. _

_You people who have still been finding this story and adding it to alerts are awesome, and everyone who has been waiting for more, thanks for sticking with me._

_I'm not promising my best work with the last chapters of the story (should be about 12, including this one), but I WILL finish it for you guys. Thanks for the support!_

**_Tappin :)_**

* * *

><p>"So," her mother posed the question, just barely a quirk of her brow as the two skittered around each other in the kitchen gathering ingredients and putting some light lunch together, "back to work next week?"<p>

"Yep." Kate grabbed the cucumbers and carrots from the fridge and headed to the table to cut and shred them for salad. "Monday morning."

"And you've spent the past, what? Two weeks? With Rick?"

She said nothing, simply looked up from her task at her mother, who was sorting recipes at the counter, and shot her a look. "I'm trying to figure out if you're meaning to tease me or scold me for not inviting you over while I was there."

"No, no. Not at all."

"Good," fell from her lips nervously, her fingers twitching around the knife and vegetable in her hand. "Because I didn't want to overstep or anything, and I know you've already met Martha," she droned, "but it just didn't feel right."

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You kept me posted, we had meals together. It's fine."

Kate nodded, ignoring her mother's teasing smile, and finished up tossing the rest of the vegetables in with the lettuce and tomatoes. She hoped Alexis would be okay with salad. The detective had noticed how healthily the girl ate during her stay at the loft and it felt like a safe choice. Besides, they were baking cookies anyway. "And you're sure you're okay with my inviting Alexis over?"

Johanna moved from the kitchen to the table, sat across from her and looked her straight in the eye. "Kate. Relax. I'm thrilled that you asked her to join us. From what you've told me about her she sounds like a wonderful girl. It'll be _fine_," she stressed again. Her mother just barely laughed at her nerves - always could read her like a book.

Kate smiled, still feeling just a bit out of her element. She was bringing her two worlds together - this time of her own free will, rather than a hospital stay - and it was scaring her more than she realized. "Just...don't go all lawyer Beckett on her, please?"

"Honey," her mother sang, "what kind of person do you think I am? Did you forget that I did raise a teenager at one point?"

"That would be my point." Kate remarked as she took the now finished bowl of salad back to the counter.

"Oh, come on, I wasn't that bad. If anything you were asking for it. You were the definition of 'wild child.'"

Kate rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the comment and move on. "Maybe so, but Alexis isn't like that at all, and I don't want her to feel uncomfortable."

Her mother pulled her away from the counter, hands on her shoulders. "Katie. Relax. It's just lunch and some baking."

"Okay," she let out a deep breath. "I guess I'm just...I don't know. Alexis and I haven't really spent anytime without Castle around so it's..."

"Scary. I get it. But you like her and she has to like you - otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to come over, so don't worry."

Kate nodded just as there was a knock on the door. "Can I get it?"

Johanna took a step back, "It's your apartment."

Before she could let herself think too hard Kate hurried to the door, did her quick check to make sure it actually _was_ Alexis on the other side, and took one deep breath before opening it.

"Hey." The girl's face was bright and cheerful as always, albeit a bit hesitant. "I'm not too early am I?"

"No, of course not. Perfect timing, we just finished getting lunch together." Kate moved back to let Alexis walk through, helped her find a place to set her things. "Your dad didn't give you too much trouble did he?"

"No more than usual. But I think he was a bit jealous of not being invited."

Kate laughed. That man.

"Well you'll bring him home some cookies and he'll get over it." She cleared her throat as she stepped into the kitchen, leading Alexis, signaling her mother to stop pretending to clean. "Alexis this is my mom, Johanna Beckett. Mom, Castle's daughter Alexis."

Her mother pulled the girl right into a hug and for a brief second Kate stiffened up with terror, but then Alexis melted into it as if they'd known each other all their lives. "Nice to meet you Mrs. Beckett," she heard muffled into her mother's shoulder.

"You too, Alexis. But you really don't have to call me Mrs. Beckett."

Alexis just sort of nodded and slinked back to the edge of the kitchen counter. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"Um," Kate turned to survey what still needed to be dealt with for lunch, "Do you mind grabbing drinks from the fridge? Two bottles of water and whatever you want?"

"Got it," Alexis chirped. By the time she pulled out three bottles and closed the door Kate and Johanna were standing with filled bowls of salad and beckoning her to the table.

"So, Alexis, Katie tells me that you play violin?"

In a breath Alexis dove into chatting about her new pieces and cute tutor and Kate was suddenly _not_ worried about how the afternoon was going to go. 

* * *

><p>As they polished off their lunch the three discussed everything and anything, including various threats for Alexis to stay away from Kate's motorcycle, and the younger two complaining about Castle's latest obsession with Guitar Hero, sending Johanna into fits of laughter.<p>

Kate had just finished sliding the third and last batch of cookies into the oven when she noticed Alexis shifting from foot to foot, eye-ing her mother's back carefully.

"Alexis?"

She startled, flipping to look at the detective, eyes wide.

"What's going on? You look a little lost there."

As soon as Alexis's face fell she kicked herself. Her mother had turned around and started staring and the poor girl was probably mortified.

"No, what I meant was, you look like you're thinking pretty hard."

"Oh," Alexis sighed a laugh, "it's nothing."

"You sure?" Her mother piped in. "You know we're pretty good to talk to, even though Katie's a bit of a hypocrite in that department."

"Hey!" Kate went from glaring at her mother to putting a gentle hand on Alexis's shoulder. "Seriously, if there's something you want to talk about, I'm here." Over her shoulder her mother cleared her throat. "And she's here too…if you're desperate." The comment earned her a light slap to the head.

"Why do I keep you around?"

"I actually had a question for you," she nodded to Johanna, "but it's no big deal."

Johanna tilted her head, smiled, "What do you want to know?"

"Well," she started, "I know you're a lawyer, and I know I'm still just in high school, I mean, I'm only a freshman, but I was wondering if maybe…maybe I could shadow you for a couple of weeks? If it's a problem or I'll be in the way it's fine, I just thought that if you have the time it might be a good experience for me."

Before Alexis could talk herself to death Johanna cut her off. "I think it's a great idea. I'd love to show you whatever you want to learn. How about this: you have a couple of weeks until school starts, right?"

Alexis nodded.

"Why don't you come in for a few days during the week, and then let yourself get started with the school year, and maybe, if you like it, we can set up an afterschool thing."

The girl's face lit up at her mother's offer, thanking her repeatedly for the opportunity, asking is she was sure, and thanking her again. The subject spurred Johanna into a fury of chatter with Alexis about school and what she was interested in career-wise.

Kate could only lean against the counter and listen as the two continued their conversation over sugar cookies, fascinated at how quickly the two connected, relieved that the afternoon had gone so well.

* * *

><p>Monday morning Castle walked into the 12th Precinct cautiously excited to get back to work with his girlfriend. Coffees in hand he stepped off the elevator, only to find that she was no where in sight. Her desk empty, just barely touched when she must've stopped just to drop off her file bag.<p>

"Castle," his head snapped over at Esposito's snapping and call, "she went down to get in some shooting practice. Been a while, you know?"

Oh, he knew. She hated being put on leave for a month and never skipped an opportunity to remind him. As soon as she had been given the all-clear she was at the gym regaining her strength, only stopping when the physical therapist lectured her not to push it – the muscles the knife tore through were important for her everyday function, did she want to risk tearing through her own lower abdomen?

She'd been itching to get back to the precinct and back to work.

"Thanks." Castle quickly set the two coffee cups down on her desk and turned back around to go find her.

* * *

><p>Thankfully there was no one else around when he found her taking shots at the paper target several floors below Homicide, because as soon as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind she startled, practically smacking him in the head with the gun in her hand.<p>

"Sorry!" He jumped back, "Sorry, Sorry! I really didn't think you'd jump that easily."

She glared at him.

"Castle, I'm holding a loaded gun, what did you think was going to happen? Announce yourself next time!"

He cocked his head, still yelling just a bit more than necessary. "Well would you even have heard me?" He asked, pointing to the headphones protecting her ears she had since slung around her neck.

Kate shrugged as she hit the safety on the gun and laid it on the counter. "What are you doing down here?"

"Just thought I'd come in today but Esposito said you were down here."

"Yeah," she sighed, "wanted to make sure I'm still sharp."

He paused, noticing the mildly upset and nervous look on her face, the way she was still favoring her left side over the right. It wasn't much - most people probably wouldn't notice - but he did.

"Please don't shoot me when I ask this but, are you sure you're ready?"

She practically froze, looking up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." he sighed, "it's just that you're still sore most days. I don't want you to push yourself too hard and get hurt again."

"Castle, despite the fact that yes, I've been injured, I am very good at my job. And I'm good at staying alive. Honestly, you've been wonderful but I've been bored out of my mind for the last week and a half. I _need_ to do this."

"I'm not doubting you. I know how good you are at what you do and I would never want to keep you from it but-"

"Hey," with the soft cut-off she stepped into his personal space, pressing their bodies together against the wall. "I'm not even on full duty yet. I'm hanging out in the precinct for another week or so before Montgomery will let me out in the field. And I have to pass a department physical. I'll be fine."

"I know," he whispered. "Just...try not to do that to me again, okay?" He took a beat, kissed her forehead. "I can only take so many hospital stays per-lifetime and you and Alexis have both reached your cap. One."

Kate's head twisted, eyes squinted in thought. "When was Alexis in the hospital?"

"She was six. Just a normal afternoon play date at her friend Paige's house while I was doing a signing. But then Paige's mom called and said that Alexis was in a lot of pain and she had called an ambulance. By the time I had gotten to the hospital they had already taken her back for surgery since her appendix was apparently so close to bursting. I'm just...not a fan of emergency surgeries at this point."

Thanks to her heels Kate had no trouble leaning in to kiss the man. Her caring, so not-a-playboy boyfriend. "I get it. I'll do my best."

"Appreciate it." He smiled.

She smiled back. "You know, I had a good time with Alexis yesterday. My mom did, too."

"From what I heard she had just as good a time. Thanks for inviting her; I know she was grateful for the time. And...your mom's giving her an internship?"

"More of a volunteer-assistant thing for a couple of weeks, but yes. Is that okay?"

He mimicked her earlier kiss. "I think it's great. She's excited."

Kate practically snorted her laugh. "Yeah, my mom is, too."

He let her fill him in on how their lunch went the day before as she began to gather her things to go back upstairs. He knew she had been more or less nervous for the get-together, but now she sounded like she and his daughter had developed an actual relationship.

"Oh," he grabbed her wrist, flipping her back into him, before she could lead them out the door. "I have something to tell you."

"Okay..."

"It's nothing bad."

"That's not really convincing me, Castle."

"Okay, well, I have a book party coming up. In about three weeks."

"Well, you do have a book coming out - that you _won't_ let me read yet."

He narrowed his eyes. "You'll get your own copy soon enough. Patience, Detective."

When she huffed he took it as a note to continue.

"I want to ask you to the party. Officially. As my date."

"Oh," she shook her head, "you mean...as your girlfriend."

"Well...yes. And I think you might be panicking a little since you're just staring but hear me out. You don't have to do anything that you don't want to. I can do the press and the carpet on my own if you're more comfortable and I'll meet you inside. I just want you there with me, if you want to be there."

He could see the torrent of thoughts running through Kate's head. She really _was_ just staring at him, not saying a thing or giving him any hints as to what she wanted to do.

"Or you don't have to come. It's fine if you don't, but since the book only exists because of you-"

"You wrote it."

"Because of you. But like I said, if you're uncomfortable with any of it, you don't have to go."

"No, I want to. I want to do this for you." Slowly, a grin spread ear to ear on her face. "An I bet you look pretty handsome in a tux."

"Well you'll just have to wait and see."

He stepped in behind her as they made their way back to the elevator.

"So, does agreeing to be your date mean that I can get that book sooner?"

"Nope."

She shoved him just as the doors to the elevator slid closed.


	18. The Public

_For Fau. Who yelled at me.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Nothing was going right. Kate had woken up with a pounding headache, she found her flat iron dead, and her coffee order had been all wrong. And to make the latter worse, she couldn't remember if she had ordered incorrectly or if it was the fault of the teenage barista.<p>

Damn Castle and his meetings. He was supposed to take care of that for her.

"Hey, you okay?"

She roused herself from the haze and looked over the top of the rack. Uh oh, she thought, Lanie had that face on. The one that meant she was going to be interrogated.

"Yeah. Fine." Kate could tell that Lanie shifted feet, probably put her free hand on her hip to properly glower at her. "What?"

"Just wondering why you're not all here when we're supposed to be finding dresses to wear to your boyfriend's party next week."

"I'm not…'not all here'. I told you, I'm fine. Look!" She held up her arm, draped in the few options she'd pulled off of various racks, waved it a little. "I even picked out some things to try."

Lanie's eyes narrowed. "Seriously, Kate. What's got that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"Stop deflecting."

"I'm not!" She huffed, looked back down at the rack to avoid her friend's intimidating stare. "I think."

"Sweetie, there's clearly something bothering you, so why don't you just tell me what it is so I can talk some sense into you already?"

Kate ignored the question as she chewed on her lower lip. She pushed the dresses she'd finished searching through over, their metal hangers scratching and clinking against each other, and paused before continuing her search. "This party. It's a big deal for him."

Slowly, Lanie nodded. "Yeah. The man's got twenty-something best-sellers under his belt and it's the beginning of a new series. And he's totally I love with you."

Kate's fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against the cold metal rack.

"And, I think I just found what's on your mind." When Kate didn't so much as look up from the rack of shimmering silk gowns it struck Lanie that this had to really be bothering her. Kate took things head-on, fought for what she wanted with everything she had – unless she felt totally underwater. "Kate, you know you don't _have_ to go, right?"

"Yeah, but the problem is I really want to." She swayed on the spot, frustrated and almost groaning at how it sounded coming out of her mouth. "I really, really want to go and be there for him, because I've watched him write the whole thing, he still won't let me read _any_ of it, and…" she sighed, dropped her hand and let the pile of dresses flop in her arms, "and he's my boyfriend." She rolled her eyes, smiled. "I'm proud of him."

"But you're freaking out."

"Mhmm."

"You know, you're really not making a hell of a lot of sense right now, girl."

"No, it's not…_the party_, it's everything else that comes with it. For months it's just been us – well, us and our family and friends. If I go to the party-" she shook her head, "When I go it won't just be _us_ anymore. There's a red carpet he has to do, with press, and photos and he has to answer questions, and he hasn't really said it outright but I can tell that he wants me to do it with him."

Lanie contemplated the confession and what it meant to actually get the words out of her, and further, what they meant about her nerves. But…they were perfect for each other, this was just a hiccup. Not even a hiccup. Just the tiniest of pebbles thrown in their path and she had to push her best friend around.

"Kate, you're over thinking it."

"But what if I'm not? What if I say something that makes him look bad?"

"Has he said you needed to speak?"

"Not really, but if someone asks me a question do I just ignore it? How does that come off on Page 6? 'Richard Castle's muse slash lover snubs reporters.'"

"Kate. Stop looking for a reason to run."

"I'm…not looking to run, I just- god, I don't want to screw this up."

Lanie reached over to take the pile of dresses Kate had collected and slung them over her own arm, even though the weight was nearly enough to topple her over. "Look, you let him into your world at work, so maybe it's time you give his a chance, too. He won't let anything happen to you, he cares about you too much. Just trust him." She paused on her walk, leading Kate to the fitting room and tossed over her shoulder, "Besides, you've got three people who would help kill him and hide the body if he did. _Not_ counting what your mother would do."

Finally the smallest of smiles cracked on her face, her eyes rolled, but she smiled. "Okay," she sighed, "Alright, I'll _try_ to relax. Just be ready if I need to bolt in the middle of the party."

"You kidding me? You're on your own there; I will be enjoying the hell out of this thing." 

* * *

><p>"Yes, I'm ready."<p>

"_And you have everything? You're not carrying your gun tonight, are you?"_

"No, Mom. Not tonight. Just the usual phone, keys, wallet, back up eyeliner and lipstick."

"_I have taught you well."_

Kate hummed into the phone as she triple checked her bag, stepped over to the full-length mirror to give herself yet another once over. She made sure her dress was lying properly as her mother went on about the last gala for her firm, she really wasn't paying attention. Her thoughts trailed off, the mild terror over what would happen later bubbling back up while she ran her free hand over the blue of her short dress. When she found it she thought it was too short, dipped to show too much cleavage, but Lanie talked her into it.

"_Kate. Katie!"_

"What? Sorry, just…thinking." She could hear her mother's teasing laugh, and the sight that probably meant she knew what her daughter was thinking.

"_Alright, I guess I'll let you go then. Have fun, okay? And don't worry too much."_

"Sure."

"_Not convinced with that tone of yours."_

Just as she was about to snark back there was a knock at her door. Her stomach leapt into her throat.

"Well, you're just going to have to live with it for awhile because I need to go."

"_Is he there?"_

"Just knocked."

Her mother hummed. _"I'll talk to you tomorrow, got it?"_

"Got it." Without muddling their conversation any further she hung up, slipped on the tan pumps she had found earlier in her closet, and nervously went for the door. Sure enough, when she looked through the peephole there he was, crisp and polished in his tux, hair slicked back.

Goodness, what had she gotten herself into?

She opened the door to his smiling face and before she could say anything was pulled into a searing kiss, right in her hallway. His arms finally released her and she stumbled back into her apartment, more or less dragging him with her.

"What was that for?"

"Not allowed to kiss my beautiful date?"

She half-laughed as she spoke, "You hadn't even seen me yet."

"Don't need to." With that he leaned in to lay a lighter, quicker kiss on her lips before producing a single rose for her. "I already knew."

She had no words - whether because of the rolling in her stomach or just him, she didn't know. With a quiet hum she took the flower and quickly found a glass with water for it, all the while knowing that he was following her every move. "Thank you." Once the flower was appropriately watered and placed just-so on her counter she moved to Castle, gently slinging her arms low around his waist. "For the record I think you look pretty handsome, yourself Mr. Castle."

He smirked, tilting his head up and pinching his lips together, "Hmm, I guess I agree with you there."

"Do you have to be so smug?"

"No, but I think I'm more fun this way."

"Debatable."

"Debate away, Detective. I'd be happy to entertain your arguments on the way to the hotel."

Oh yeah. That. The realization of why he was at her apartment in the first place hit her, and quickly, Kate nodded her agreement. But rather than continuing to feed and tease his ego she gulped, "So, remind me how this is going to work tonight?"

She could feel his hands warm on her lower back, his thumbs soothing her nerves through the fabric of her dress. Outside, the city buzzed, the muffled sounds coming through her windows to fill the silence in that moment. "My mother and Alexis are waiting for us in the car downstairs, and once we get to the hotel there's a short bit of press."

"How much is 'short'?"

"I only have to talk to a few of the major reporters on the carpet, but there will probably be a small army of photographers. I'll need to talk do a couple of more formal interviews inside, but there is nothing that you have to do. You don't even have to do the carpet with me if you don't want to."

She contemplated the offer, and how she would feel leaving him to do everything on his own. "Do I have to answer any questions?"

"I'm sure some will be directed to you, but no. You don't have to say a thing to anyone. Just smile and I'll do the rest."

Her lip found its familiar home between her teeth as she thought, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I think I can handle that. Just don't let me do anything stupid, alright?"

His sweet smile remained while Kate grabbed her clutch and turned them to the door. "I highly doubt that would even be in your realm of possibility. You're stunning."

She didn't question him. 

* * *

><p>The red carpet had been a blur of flashbulbs and muffled reporters, Castle's agent – a sharply dressed, high heeled woman named Paula - pushing him along, and him then tugging her as he moved down the line. Mostly they ignored her, opting rather to ask the famous author questions about his latest book, what he was working on next, and what it was like <em>not<em> writing Derrick Storm. Deft as always, he spun them short but proper answers and managed to cover for her when someone asked about their relationship. Only two reporters went out of their way for her attention, one asking how she felt being so out of her element – though slightly appropriate, it hit a nerve – and the other daring to call her 'Nikki Heat.'

Castle quickly told the man he was out of line.

By the time they made it through the doors and were being prepped to actually enter the party Kate felt like she had walked through a tornado. Wasn't even sure that she was completely processing his agent's asking if she was alright.

She peered around a curtain as Castle was getting a once over from the woman to get a glance at the room.

It was stunning, and very _Castle_. Blood red and black linens on the tables, wait staff in all-black carrying trays of bubbling champagne and hors d'oeuvres, matching red drapes and large, framed posters of the book cover all over.

The book cover. She huffed. She still didn't like it. He said she wasn't naked on it, but In full silhouette it was hard not to think so.

And the people. They were everywhere. She spied the boys and her captain, Lanie, but mostly she had no clue who could possibly be here aside from more press.

"Kate," she felt his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you ready?"

"Oh," she nodded, "Mhmm." She couldn't help the grin at him when he held out his arm for her, even though she was certain her knees were shaking. But she had made it past the biggest hurdle, hadn't she? Now she just had to keep it together while he schmoozed and signed books.

The couple followed Martha and Alexis into the ballroom. She had to remind herself to just keep her smile and not squint at the second series of photogs snapping more shots. Once they reached the end of the line Castle pulled her off to the side.

"Hey," his lips met hers for one moment of a kiss, "Did good out there. They loved you."

"Not so sure about that."

"Kate, you were great. And Paula said she likes how you handled yourself, so you must have done _something_ right."

The laugh fell from her lips, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. "Sure. You've got interviews, right?"

"Just a few. You're rid of me for a little while. I don't have to speak for about an hour."

"I'll just, hang out over here then."

"Don't be ridiculous. Have some fun, grab a drink!"

"Ha. We'll see. Go…be 'Rick Castle, the novelist,' I'll find you later."

He winked, "Kay," and squeezed her hand before heading into the crowd to find his first stop in the interview run. She lost sight of him quickly, sadly, but took it as a chance to relax, take a deep breath, after the craze of arriving and entering.

"Hey, girl! I told you this place would be great!" Lanie practically skipped over to her, two champagne flutes in hand, handed her one as soon as she was within arms reach. "How did everything go outside? Castle had us come in the side entrance so we wouldn't be harassed or something."

"Um, it was alright. Mostly just an endless string of flashing lights and questions."

"Any for you?"

"Yeah," she sipped from the glass, carefully going over the few moments again in her head, remarking to herself how thankful she was that Castle handled everything. "Castle fielded them all for me, though." She chuckled. "He nearly told off a guy who called me Nikki Heat."

"Mhmm," Lanie hummed that way she always did when she felt she was on the verge of making a point – or rather, having Kate make the point for her.

"What?"

"Nothing really. Just kind of dying to say 'I told you so' right about now?"

Kate narrowed her eyes, practically burning a whole through her friend's head, but just as she was about to reply to the mocking tone she was interrupted.

Ryan and Esposito, Captain Montgomery trailing behind them. "Yo, Beckett. Lookin' pretty good."

"Not too bad yourself, Esposito. You guys having a good time?"

"Beckett, did you know the other…authors would be here, too? I mean, I get his birthday, but wouldn't this be like, competition or something?" She laughed at Ryan's shock, only inwardly freaking out over the authors' presence.

"Ryan, they're friends. I think they even get together for poker once a month?"

Ryan's head shook, apparently not able to comprehend the names present at the event…for the second time in his life.

"Beckett," Montgomery nodded, much too fatherly to comment on her appearance or indulge her interest in popular fiction. "Have you seen the dedication?"

She shook her head, eyes pulled together in confusion as her friends-slash-coworkers looked on. "N-no? Why? What does it say?"

Carefully, Lanie plucked the glass from her hand and nudged her to one of the many tables nearly overflowing with the glossy novels. "Just, go see for yourself."

Wary of their cryptic response she made her way through a small group of what must be fans, some peering into the book, others just…staring at her, to get to the table. Her hand nearly shook as it passed through the airspace to grab one of the books. The cover was cool, smooth even in her grip, the white lettering of his name practically blinding. Her fingers ran around the edge, taking in every detail before she dared to crack the novel open. Just one deep breath, and she went for it.

_To the extraordinary KB,_

_and all my friends at the 12__th__._

Well then, she thought. It felt as if the air had completely left her lungs – just gone as her eyes scanned the page, her fingers itched to turn the page and lead her to the story.

"He's right you know."

She was snapped out of her reverie by the voice, her eyes met Martha's once she managed to actually look up.

"Oh, um – I-"

"No need to sputter, dear. Just stating a fact. You are extraordinary. Richard thinks as much and I find that I do, too. I know it seems like a lot but…" the older woman smiled and took Kate's hands in hers as they, together, laid the book back down on the table, "you fit very nicely together, and I know it made him very happy that you decided to do all of, _this_" her hand swirled in the air, motioning to the party, "with him tonight."

"Oh," she struggled to smile, laughing, and to not sound like a fool. It had suddenly grown very warm in the particular area. "Well, it's all him, really."

"Nonsense. You look gorgeous, and have very much earned that dedication."

Nervously, Kate smiled, truly, but struggled to find her voice. "Thanks. I, ah – I appreciate that."

"A few words of advice: enjoy yourself tonight." Her loving hand patted Kate on the shoulder as she began to step away. "You deserve it."

Kate let out the breath she'd been holding the moment Martha was out of her peripheral vision. When she looked up, she found that she was looking right at Castle, mid-interview with some busty blonde woman holding a recorder, just as he glanced up at her. If she had blinked, she would've missed the wink he shot her when he realized where she was standing, and what she had just done.

She looked down again at the books covering the table.

She better be getting a free copy. 


	19. The Ex

It was becoming rarer and rarer that Castle and Beckett didn't arrive at a crime scene together. Kate had taken to picking up her writer before heading to the precinct, or at least meeting him outside with coffee before driving off – him supplying the caffeine – on the chance that they hadn't already spent the night together.

But it just so happened that they hadn't spent the previous night together, and the call came in to Kate very unexpectedly. She was supposed to just be on-call for the day, and she had been looking forward to relaxing around her apartment, re-reading _Heat Wave_, and enjoying a quiet afternoon with Castle. Everything had been a whirlwind since the book's launch and she was beginning to feel like she was forgetting what he looked like.

Much to her surprise, just as she stepped out of her cruiser he came trotting over, two coffee go-cups and a paper pastry bag in hand. "Morning! Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar free vanilla, and a bear claw."

"Hmm," she smirked, taking the cup from his hand, opting to let him carry the rest. "A girl could get used to this kind of service, Castle."

"Yet another reason to keep me around."

She hid her grin in the lid of her coffee, savored the warm sweetness as they stepped up onto the sidewalk, "No meetings today?"

"Nope," he let his hand brush her back as he reached around to open the door for her, "looks like you're stuck with me today. Everything's starting to taper off now; I don't even have another signing for about a week. Think you can deal with that?"

She sighed, overly dramatic and long, humoring him, "I guess so. I have grown a bit tired of looking the face on the book jacket though," Kate paused in the hall, turned to face him, "It'll be nice to see some of the real thing again."

The thin smile on his face sent a shiver down her spine. They were at a crime scene, dammit, she told herself, keep it together.

"So, by that I take it you've been reading the book?"

With a shrug, "Maybe. It's certainly found a home in my place."

"Well," he sounded so excited and curious, "what do you think?"

Just to annoy him she spun on her heel and continued down the hall, searching for apartment 6A and the officers no doubt posted outside of it.

"She's naked on the cover, Castle. No matter how good the story is, she's naked on the cover."

"She's not naked – thank you for saying that the story is good, by the way – she's holding a gun….strategically."

Right as she approached the door she flipped back around, took his lapel in her free hand, "I'm just saying, if I have to put up with flack for it, you can expect that I'll pass it along, 'kay?"

He leaned in to kiss her cheek before she could pull away, as he expected her to. "Kay."

Kate flashed her badge to the officer posted and they passed through the door. The detective moved to begin her usual glance around the scene but stopped when she saw Montgomery clearly waiting for her.

"Sir, what's going on?"

The older man sighed, began to brief her, deftly ignoring Castle's presence for the moment. "Two year old girl, Angela Candela, reported missing by her parents 'bout 8 o'clock this morning."

"Where'd the find the body?"

"They haven't found her," he shook his head, "she was abducted. Father was in the other room painting."

"Kidnapped from her home?" Castle piped in.

Now with her Detective Beckett armor on, Kate shifted, foot-to-foot taking in the information. "I don't understand sir, if this isn't a murder then why am I here?"

"Feds requested you be on the taskforce."

"Feds?" Again, Castle questioned the Captain.

Beckett turned to him. "FBI has jurisdiction over child abduction cases."

"Then why call me?"

Montgomery shrugged, just a hint of a smile on his face. "'Cause I like pissing off the FBI. And because you think outside the box - that's something the feebs rarely do."

"Sir, who's the special agent in charge?" She cut him off. Desperate to know the real reason whey she was summoned to the scene. Wary over her history in abduction situations.

"Beckett it doesn't matter who-"

"Sir. Who?"

He cast his eyes downwards, and she noticed his slight hesitation in answering her. "Sorenson."

She shifted. The air in the room felt heavy. It was definitely not what she thought she'd be dealing with, ever again, let alone for a case…with Castle. "I thought that he was in-"

"-Boston. Not anymore. He's here. This isn't going to be a problem is it Detective? I mean we're all professionals here, right?"

"Actually, I'm not," The writer butted in…again. "Who's Sorenson?"

"No sir," she stated. Matter-of-fact, no emotion, clear-cut as she was taught. "Not a problem."

Her captain's face softened, yet was still stern and instructing. "For what it's worth that missing little girl doesn't care about your history, nor do her parents. They just want their baby back alive."

With a frantic nod she took a cleansing breath. "Where is he?"

Montgomery nodded over her shoulder. "Over there talking to the parents," the ringing of his phone drew him away. "Excuse me."

She turned, slowly, once he was gone, careful of Castle standing next to her, worried – shit, she'd have to fix that later – and spied the FBI agent speaking with two very distraught parents.

The second he spotted her watching he excused himself and made his way to her. This was it.

"Hello Will," she kept her hands clasped behind her back, close to Castle, careful to let him know that he didn't have to worry, even though she had a feeling this was all going to go very badly. "How long have you been back?"

"Couple months," he answered with a shrug.

"Something wrong with Boston?"

Another nervous tick. "Fresh lobster gets old fast. You look good."

She hated herself for being uncomfortable between her boyfriend and her ex. When did she turn into that girl? "Thanks. I feel good, Agent Sorenson, this is Richard Castle," she stepped aside to move past the pleasantries and get down to the case at hand.

"The famous novelist?"

"Writer of wrongs." The smug man.

Will sighed, turned back to her. "Captain Montgomery filled me in on your little arrangement and I have no problem as long as it doesn't interfere with the investigation."

"Don't worry about me, quiet as a mouse." She turned to Castle and tried her best to tell him without words to behave himself. The last thing she needed was a pissing match.

Will swiftly filled her in on the details of the case, explained the morning routine to her and went over how they wanted to play things. She was fine with it – the quick, calculated analysis of the case, and letting them both get to what they were good at. But then he had to go and whisper in her year – just loud enough for Castle to still hear,

"This one'll end better. I promise." 

* * *

><p>The case was going nowhere.<p>

She had no new leads, the leads she followed turned up nothing but air, and dammit – she was _not_ losing another one.

She could feel the muscles in her back and shoulders tightening, winding together with the stress and her determination to gain some ground to find Angela. Trying to get some space, was what she was doing – well, really trying to go back over the file on all of Angela's babysitters. All Kate wanted was ten minutes of silence, away in the breakroom, away from Will and his judging, Castle, who was doing nothing but questioning their every move. She needed space to regroup.

"Hey."

Castle. Great. Just what she wanted to deal with. He hadn't stopped asking about the case, or about Will, and she wasn't ready to tell him yet, especially not when a little girl's life was at stake.

"Hey," she whispered, keeping her head down as if she was actually reading the words on the page.

"Figured you might want something to drink."

"Castle, I'm really not in the mood for anymore coffee. I already feel like shit, I don't need my head actually exploding on top of it."

She really didn't mean to sound so terse and accusing. She didn't. But it couldn't be helped – the case was on the edge of driving her into the ground and she could feel herself growing nauseous.

"Not coffee. Just a bottle of water. Cold."

When she cast her eyes up he was snapping the plastic seal, opening it for her. "Thanks," she sighed as she took the bottle from his hands.

"Where's our friendly neighborhood FBI agent?"

"He's running analysis on the ransom call. Seeing if there's anything that can help."

"But, I thought he already said it was untraceable."

"I don't know, he's got his team doing…whatever it is they do."

"While you're stuck here with the paperwork?"

"It's not paperwork," she snapped, "I'm trying to see if there's anything else in here that can give me _something_. Anything. I don't care if we think that Ellers didn't do it, I need to know _for sure_.

She slapped one sheet of paper over to read the next one, too much effort making the table vibrate.

"What do you need me to do, Kate?"

What did she need him to do? She needed him to give her space to try and solve this case and find a little girl alive. She needed…"

"I need you to go home."

He was stunned, she knew. To the point that she was too worried to look at him. "Okay," he agreed. "If you're sure."

She nodded, sinking back into the seat, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Kate could hear him stand and she brought her arms back down when he leaned over her. Her head tilted back, angled up at him.

"But if you need me, call. Even if it's just to talk." The instruction was clear to her as he leaned down to gently kiss her forehead – Don't run yourself down. I'm here.

It was as much reassurance as she was going to get.

* * *

><p>He knew he was being ridiculous. It wasn't about her ex-boyfriend-FBI-agent, had nothing to do with him, and nothing to do with himself. She was just tried, and stressed, and the case was getting to her.<p>

Hell, it was getting to him.

He cast his eyes upstairs to where he could hear his daughter carefully practicing some new violin piece for her next lesson.

What would he do if it had been her?

When Alexis was two Meredith had just left and he was a single father. God, he thought, he would've lost it completely.

Castle was still lost in thought when Alexis came downstairs; he didn't notice the look of confusion on her face, until she snapped her fingers in his face trying to get his attention.

"Dad? Hey," she snapped, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" His hands tightened around the knife and tomato he had been attempting to slice for a sandwich. "Yeah. Yeah, sweetie, I'm okay."

"Well you don't look like it," she questioned.

"Hey, didn't I teach you to be nice?"

"You also taught me to be honest," was her retort.

He pursed his lips, agreed with her. "Just, takin' a break from the case."

"But what about Kate?"

"What about her?"

She settled herself onto one of the barstools, arms folded as she spoke, "Well you're taking a break, so where is she?"

"Oh, no. Kate's still working. It's a…tough case. A kidnapping."

"Oh."

"Yeah. A little girl," his face fell. "She's stressed and her FBI agent ex-boyfriend is working the case with us."

"She dated an FBI agent?"

"Apparently. He's this tough, square-jawed, by the book type. A lot like her."

"Dad," her voice dropped, "are you jealous?"

"What?" He scoffed, feigned a laugh. "Of course not." The writer paused, thinking, "They just – they work very well together."

"Sounds like you're jealous to me."

He shook his head, not really believing it, "No. It's just, weird to think about her life before I met her, you know?"

"But Dad, put yourself in her shoes. She's got to have the same thoughts, I mean, you have me. You had mom, and Gina. But…there's a reason why you don't anymore, right? So there must be a reason why she's not with him anymore."

They looked at each other from across the counter, Castle remarking to himself about his not-so-little girl.

"I don't know, doesn't that mean something?"

He smiled, used his elbows to lift himself up and over the space between them, sloppily kissing her head, "When did you get so smart?"

"Hmm…maybe Gram had something to do with it?"

She grinned at the look he shot her, teasing, "Maybe you, too."

* * *

><p>"Hey, yourself. Want some."<p>

"Thanks. So, I just got word from my guys and Ellers is a dead-end. The owner at Paradise Diner on East 62nd vouched that he was having his usual poached eggs this morning.

"Hm. Would've been too easy, right?"

She nodded into the cop of steaming caffeine.

"Or over-easy."

She turned to find him staring at her, almost waiting to make her laugh. She hated that she did, that he made her smile when she was in such a foul mood. But –

"That's like something Castle would say," she flipped back to her coffee, her free hand tracing over the rim.

Silence. The two of them, shoulder-to-shoulder let her words float away, the smiles awkwardly lingering on their faces.

"So, you're dating him. Castle."

Kate sucked in a heavy breath. "Yeah." Part of her had known this was going to happen, before the end of the case. Especially if Will was back in New York, karma was too much of a bitch to let her just walk away.

"I saw the pictures. From his party? You looked…amazing. Happy."

She carefully laid the mug down and turned, folding her arms across her chest to lean against the doorway and put some space between them. "Yeah, well, I am happy. He's a good man, Will."

He chuckled, head bobbing back and forth as the thought amused him. "Even though he lives his life on Page 6? You're not exactly a public person, Kate."

"Maybe not," she agreed, "but he is. When he has to be, so…I can be okay with it. He's…he's worth it."

"Really?" His eyes were squinted at her. Inquiring. Doubting.

"Really."

With a sigh he pushed off of the Candelas' kitchen counter, probably getting ready to get back to work. His gait was slow, hands shoved in his pockets while he got way too close to her for her liking.

For a snap second she thought he was going to kiss her, pull her up with one hand like he used to. She was prepared to strike, shove him backwards and away, but he only leaned into her ear and in his low voice questioned her.

"So why'd you send him home?"

It was sad to her, that a woman could hate her husband so much that she'd stage her child's kidnapping. Divorce she could understand, but what Theresa Candela did was mind-boggling to Detective Kate Beckett.

And such a sweet little girl, too, to be caught up in the mess.

She was comfortable at her desk, the precinct quietly humming just-so around her while she did the little bit of paperwork that had to be done on her end for the case. The FBI was taking most of it, thankfully.

She heard the gently 'plunk' into the seat beside her desk – Castle's seat – and thought it was him. They had to talk.

But she was more or less surprised to find Will there, waiting for her attention, his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on the edge of her desk.

She raised her eyebrows, prompting him.

"So how do you think she'll do?" He asked. He was trying to make small talk, avoid the larger issue like they always did.

She didn't want to do that anymore.

"Well, it depends on how many mothers are on the jury."

Will just nodded, likely hadn't even planned on having a conversation about their case.

"You're serious about it. This thing with Castle?"

She leaned back in her chair, laced her fingers together and let her arms fall back to the armrests of her chair. It took her a second, she looked up, chewed on her lip in thought. He was still looking right at her when she decided to answer.

"We're getting there."

"Mmm," his thumb tweaked against his chin when he shifted away, nodding, taking in the gravity of what she said. "And your mom likes him?"

She laughed, "Yeah, I think she may like him more than me. And they've only met a handful of times."

"Sounds about right."

"Oh," she teased, "so you're saying you like Castle more than me now? You may have to pick me up off of the floor if that's true."

"Oh, no. Definitely not."

They shared a laugh.

"But…I'm glad you're happy, Kate." He stood up, straightened his suit jacket and walked away giving her no chance to answer and leaving her totally confused over how apparently well they were leaving things.

She toyed with the idea of calling after him, telling him she hoped he was happy, too, but a throat cleared and snapped her back.

Castle.

Back in his chair.

"Saying goodbye?"

It almost made her cringe, how uncomfortable and unsure he sounded. Things had gotten better as the case came to a close but she still felt terrible for him having to deal with Will.

"Yeah."

"You were great with Angela back there. Had her smiling and babbling."

She smiled despite her nerves, "I used to babysit. A lot. Entertaining a toddler doesn't really leave you, you know? And I had a bunch of little cousins."

"Ah, another layer of the Beckett onion."

Kate wasn't a big fan of this analogy for her that he had, but it did remind her that he had earned more than just some lay memories of old jobs and family reunions.

She prepped herself, leaned over her desk, one ankle crossed over her knee as she pulled herself in closer to him.

"We dated for six months."

"Kate-"

"We met on a case. Another kidnapping. I wasn't supposed to be there but they needed extra hands, and I was still the low man on the totem pole so, that's how I got involved." She looked down, arranged what she wanted to say carefully in her head. "We solved the case but…we didn't get there in time."

His face fell, almost instantly and he reached for her hand. "I'm sorry, Kate."

"It's alright." She had to swallow back the tightness that still hit her when she thought about that case – that time in her life. "He took me out for a drink afterwards and we just…ended up hitting it off. Things were great," she nodded as she spoke, "we were…happy. But he got an offer for a promotion, in Boston, and…I didn't go with him. Wasn't exactly the cleanest of breaks."

"He left you?"

"Offered for me to come with him but you probably have an idea of what that life is like. I didn't want to be following a man around for the rest of my life."

He paused, his hand still warm over hers. "That won't happen with us, Kate. Promise."

"Castle you can't-"

"No, I'm not saying we're at that point. Six months, even now, is not a long amount of time to up and move with someone."

Hadn't hit her until he said it that by now they'd been 'together' for almost the same amount of time she and Will had been.

"But, I'm a writer. I can work from anywhere. I won't be leaving anytime soon."

He made her smile - more than anyone had before, and warmed her heart. Where had the jerk she arrested gone?

"So, that means I'm stuck with you, huh?"

"You've got it Detective. I'm just going to keep following you around."


	20. The Op

Castle stretched out in the bed, eyes still closed, reveling in the feeling of getting a good night's sleep. He felt Kate tucked into his side, her hair fanned out over his arm and the gentle press of her body against his as she slept. He loved when he woke up first and could just watch her. She would inevitably wake and tell him how creepy it was, but he couldn't stop.

They had finally fallen into the bed – Kate too tired to make it to her own place – after the Captain sent them home early. The team had been working a case, turned into a double, and they still had nowhere to go. They had rough descriptions of their suspect, but it was taking everything they had to narrow down where and how to find him.

After working from the precinct for 14 hours straight with no breaks, they were all sent home, Ryan and Esposito too, and told to take half the day.

He twisted his neck at a horribly awkward angle to see the clock. The red digital lines reflected back at him.

_7:23_

Why had he woken so early?

He was just about to hunker back down with his detective when the ringing of a phone blared through the room.

Her phone.

Shit.

He had the sinking feeling that it was the murder line, though he hoped it was good news – good news hardly ever happened at seven AM.

Kate groaned, her toes pushed into his calf as she stretched herself out and rolled to reach for the phone. "Why?" Her voice was still raspy with sleep but she rubbed her eyes and moved to answer anyway.

He sighed, let his head flop back into the pillow, his arm slip from around Kate's back.

"Beckett."

She reached behind herself, lazily tapped his hand as if making sure he was still awake.

"Alright," she sighed, "Be there in about…forty-five minutes."

When she hung up it was with a huff, the cell clattering to the nightstand while she rolled back over to him. They stared at each other, side-by-side for a moment.

"Another one?"

She nodded. "Unfortunately."

"You get ready, I'll find breakfast. Then we'll swap?"

"Kay," despite the sour start to the morning she smiled, albeit thinly at him. There was nothing keeping him with her for this…_hell_ of a case. He said it was good research but she knew he was just worried about her. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He leaned over, kissed her, almost too quickly before rolling off of the bed and heading to the kitchen. Kate took the opportunity to lean back against the headboard and admire as he disappeared into his office in only a pair of low-riding, thin sleep pants.

But she only let herself have the moment before getting up herself, begrudgingly getting ready for who would be the third victim of this case.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, 22 year-old Mandy Jones was the third victim in what was now being treated as a serial case. The girls all fit the same type: slim, dark hair - nothing really special except that their looks got all of them killed outside of 7 Seconds - one of Manhattan's less fashionable nightclubs.<p>

Beckett was miserable. Knowing that the girls had all been killed because they chose the same club to go to pissed her off. She hated that it took two victims to put a unit on the club, three before they'd let said unit stay there past-shift, and she was still going through departmental bullshit to get a plan in place to try and find their killer in the club before another innocent girl would be killed.

She sat at her desk waiting for Esposito to come back with the financial records of some of the regular customers of Friday nights - when the girls were murdered. Her fingers wrapped around the pen she was angrily tapping against the files on her desktop while she stared at the girls' photos on the board. They had found five regular Friday night customers who paid by card, all of whom had been vouched for by a friend or a girlfriend, but she was determined to check their records anyway.

They had to get eyes inside the club. How else was she supposed to catch a ghost?

The idea had been rolling around in her head for a few days, whispering to her since their second victim had been found. It wasn't her first choice - was never a first choice - but they had been through each victim's past, all their friends and family, taken as many statements from patrons of the club as possible, and she was starting to feel useless.

Beckett waited until the team was gathered in the conference room to make her proposal.

Ryan had spent the afternoon combing through security tapes from the club and the surrounding business as Esposito dug through records of every person who seemed to be at all relative to the case and she and Castle double and triple checked the victims' histories. All they had were a few images of thin figures in hoodies hanging outside of the club after midnight - no distinct features at all.

"Alright, people, we need to get some traction on this, I sure as hell don't want another picture up on that board anymore than you."

"Sir," Beckett gently raised her hand, as a student would, and grabbed her captain and partners' attention, "I have a suggestion."

Montgomery nodded for her to continue.

"Let me go in undercover."

She felt Castle's twist in the seat beside hers instantly. His hand fell from where his chin was perched against it and thumped against the conference table. "What?"

"I don't look much different from these girls, and we have nothing else to find this guy with."

Both the Captain and Esposito had their mouths open to answer, contribute to her suggestion or otherwise she didn't know because before either of them could speak Castle was arguing.

"So you want to go in and use yourself as bait for a murderer? Put yourself in that kind of risk?"

"Castle, I can go in armed and wired, there would be a unit outside - besides, this isn't the first time I would be doing something like this. I can get in the club, play the part and keep my eyes open for him."

"Kate-"

"Castle. This is what police work looks like. We don't always get to sit back while the uniforms do the work. I have experience doing this, and this case needs to be closed, we have go get this guy and if me going in is what it takes, I'll do it. That's my job."

He looked so dejected, frustrated yet, begrudgingly understanding. She had to keep herself in her head, in the game, or he _would_ break her, and that just couldn't happen. He could be pissed at her once the case was over.

"Fine." He huffed. "But you don't go in alone. I'm coming with you."

"Castle, no-"

"Beckett," Montgomery interrupted, "much as I hate to say it, I don't completely disagree. This guy's managed to get the drop on three girls, and I'm not having it happen to one of my people. You two can go in together, play a couple for all I care. Hopefully you won't be the only one fitting the description there and you'll be able to nail him without him coming after you."

"But sir," that was the last thing she wanted. She did not want Castle going in there, and risking his life. She knew him, knew that he'd do something stupid if he thought it would help her. She tried to argue, but got shot down. The Captain fighting that if she was going in with a partner it should be _with_ her partner.

Reluctantly, she agreed. Thankfully for her, Castle's concern weighed down the excitement she knew he had.

* * *

><p>"Remember what I told you?"<p>

"Anything happens, I hang back and call backup," he huffed. Kate knew he wasn't happy with her number one rule, but too bad. That's how she was running things.

"Good. I mean it, Castle. Please, do that for me."

"Kate," he grabbed her wrist the second she had finished adjusting the holster hidden underneath her dress – how it was actually concealed with that little fabric, he had no clue – "I know. But, same goes, okay? No getting killed."

"Castle, this guy is nowhere near the biggest threat I've encountered. He's a coward."

"He's killed three girls," his voice flat, hard, his eyes not wavering from hers for a beat, "in my book that makes him dangerous."

Quickly, while they were still prepping in the alleyway several buildings down from the club, she pulled herself closer to him, pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss that made her own toes curl. "We'll be fine. Just play along with me, alright."

His hands tightened around her back, his words vibrating in her ear, "Got it."

The two went back over the plan once more before linking arms and starting their stroll down the street towards the club. Kate playing every bit the giddy girlfriend, Castle the strong man treating his girl to a night out, neither looking anything like their real selves.

* * *

><p>By the time Kate spotted who she believed was their guy it was near midnight. She and Castle had spent an hour and a half dancing, deftly rotating and moving around the floor, scanning for lonely men eying the crowd. They had spotted two girls with a similar look to herself, jointly kept eyes on the two of them, all while relaying to Ryan and Esposito in a van down the street updates every ten minutes. When one of the other girls left with a group of girlfriends it hit Kate that the victim of the night would likely be either herself or the innocent.<p>

She'd have her way and neither of them would die. She knew it.

The clock struck twelve fifty-three when she noticed him. Not terribly obviously, but not covertly sitting in a corner booth surrounded by a handful of empty beer bottles.

"Castle," she whispered in his ear as they made one more round around the dance floor, "Wearing the green hoodie, just over my right shoulder. Who's he looking at."

She felt the hitch in his breathing but chose to ignore it, instead waiting for his answer. "Mainly watching our friend over at the bar," he referred to the killer's other potential target, "but not totally ignoring us, either."

"Okay," she took in the information, thought, "let's head to that back hall. I want to see if he'll follow or wait for her."

He nodded and followed while she whispered to her shoulder, and the hidden mic, a description of both their killer and the girl they were trying to _not_ get killed while they walked. Just as they reached the small hallway leading to the restrooms Kate pinned Castle against the wall, hoping that he'd keep his eyes open while they held their cover.

Like teenagers they had their hands all over each other behind the crowd. Every few moments Kate would break away, making sure Castle could still see either their killer or the girl at the bar before laying her mouth on his again. Her knees were starting to buckle, her nerves tingling at his touch, but she had to stay focused.

"On the move," Castle split from her without warning, jolting her back to the scene. She spun on her heel, gently nudging the writer back with the palm of her hand.

"Stay here."

She surveyed the room once more, found their friend at the bar gathering her belongings and heading for the door – alone – while the killer lingered behind. She adjusted her saunter, trying to seem pissed at the man who had brought her, though his "not a chance," as he followed didn't help.

The girl left the club seconds before the killer, Kate hot on his heels as she reached for her weapon without drawing attention from the rest of the crowd.

The scream hit her ear the second her foot hit the sidewalk – a terrified, choked scream, coming from the darkened alley.

Gun drawn, she bolted around the corner to find the hooded figure with his hands around the girl's neck. Her eyes were wide, petrified, while he yelled unintelligibly at her.

"NYPD! Get your hands up, now!" She shouted her address, carefully stepping over empty cans and litter in her heels to get to him.

He froze, but didn't let go, leaving the poor girl struggling for air as she tried everything she could to escape, her legs twitching for momentum to kick while her hands grabbed at the killer's arms.

"Show me your hands!"

Ryan and Esposito rounded the corner, shouting and hurrying towards and past Kate, prepared to tackle their guy to the ground.

He bolted the second he saw them. In a blink he had let go of the girl and gone running, the boys in quick pursuit after him.

While her partners wrestled and cuffed their unknown killer Kate approached his near-victim.

"My name is Detective Kate Beckett, are you alright?"

The girl had slumped to the ground, clawed at her own throat, gasping for air. She couldn't have been any more than twenty or twenty-one. Carefully Kate laid a hand on her shoulder, made sure she had no other injuries. The girl was still staring past Kate, watching Ryan and Esposito cuff and lead green hoodie away.

"Hey," Kate got in her line of vision, distracting her, "don't worry about him, he can't hurt you anymore. Can you hear me?"

She nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Kelly. Jackson."

"Hi, Kelly." She smiled, motioned for Castle to join them from where he had stood waiting at the corner. "Can I take a look at your throat? It hurts right?"

She nodded, winced, but let the detective look.

There would be bruises, Kate could tell, but no broken skin. "Kelly, I know it sounds hard to believe but you're going to be okay. This is my partner Richard Castle," he waved, friendly as usual, "we're going to take you to the ER just to make sure, alright?"

The tears were welling up in her eyes, threatening to fall, "Thank you. Can I call my parents?"

"Absolutely," Kate stood and let Castle help her up, "are you okay to walk?"

She mumbled that she thought so but Kate wrapped an arm around her anyway, nodded for Castle to hang onto her in case her legs gave out as they made their way out of the alley and away from the club.

The detective was willing to bet that it would be a long time before Kelly entered one again.

* * *

><p>They made it back to the precinct just past two AM, after Kelly's parents had come to pick her up from the ER where a doctor had confirmed that barring a few bruises and the shock she was just fine.<p>

Beckett and Castle found Ryan and Esposito clearing off the murder board, setting everything neatly into files to be processed and passed on to the DA.

"Looks nice and quiet around here," Castle commented. The bullpen was near silent – the night shift officers kept to themselves while they wrapped things up. "He our guy?"

"Oh yeah," Esposito huffed, "Name's Roger Woodham. He may have had a few beers in him but when he saw the photos of the three girls he broke down. We got the whole story about his sister's beauty, and how the girls reminded him of her. Guy's definitely not all there," he poked his head, "he killed his sister four years ago because she refused to let him be more than her brother, if you know what I mean. These girls must've triggered him."

Saddened, Kate perched on the edge of her desk, hands under her thighs, sighed. Castle stood beside her, closer than usual, needing the comfort.

"So, despite all of that, there was no villainous motive, no sinister plan."

"Nope." Ryan popped. "Guy just needed help for a long time and never got it. Unfortunately he'll get it far too late for these girls."

The four of them stared up at the photos of the three girls. Respectful silence for the lives they would never get to live.

With a quiet sigh Ryan and Esposito removed their pictures and dropped them in their files, all laid in the tray on the edge of Kate's desk. "Thanks guys. I'll take care of this in the morning."

"Don't you mean later?"

She rolled her eyes at Ryan's remark.

"Oh," Espo called back, "could you guys _be_ anymore convincing as a couple? Jeez, Beckett, Castle has to speak to your mother with that mouth."

She plucked a pen out of the mug on her desk and chucked it at him, making him duck.

"Hey," Castle tugged her from her glaring at the detective's back.

"Hey," she whispered back at him.

"Thanks for letting me go in with you."

She smiled, took his hand from where it hung limply at his side and hopped off the desk. "Thanks for following the rules for once."


	21. The Comfort

She woke to the sounds of rain smattering against the window of her bedroom. The gentle tip-tap was comforting – a little. But she still wanted to crawl in a hole until the next day.

Her room was drafty and cold so she pulled her thicker, winter quilt up around her neck, curled it into herself and watched the grey sky over the city. Kate had let herself sleep in, as she always did today, but she knew she had to leave soon, her mother was expecting her and if she didn't show up by eleven – god, it was already ten twenty – there would be phone calls.

And she didn't think she had the voice to answer.

With a heavy sigh she rolled herself out of bed, her toes curling against the cold floor as she moved into the kitchen to ready coffee to take with her. While the liquid dripped into the pot she tugged on a pair of jeans and a worn, comfortable grey sweater. Over that she tugged on the dull blue University of Buffalo sweatshirt her father had bought her as a joke when she was contemplating colleges. By the time she had slipped her feet into boots and pulled her hair into low ponytail the coffee was done, and she quickly poured it, black, into the travel cup Castle had brought her for work, grabbed a black pea coat and headed out into the New York, November air.

* * *

><p>Her mother pulled the door open almost before she could even knock and instantly wrapped her arms around her.<p>

"Hi, Mom."

Kate sunk into the embrace, swallowing back the torrent of tears that the moment always brought out and let her mother practically rock her back and forth in the doorway.

"Come on," Johanna whispered, "I made breakfast."

"You know you didn't have to do that, Mom." She nagged while yanking off her boots and coat, content to pad around her mother's place in the sweatshirt and her fuzzy socks.

"And you know that I like to. Pancakes and bacon, I can do eggs if you want. I'd tell you that there's juice in the fridge but I see you already have coffee."

They were each ignoring each other's red-rimmed eyes, the somber expressions on their faces as they moved around each other in the kitchen.

"Drank most of it on the way here. Juice sounds perfect."

Kate grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and poured two glasses full while her mother plated the food and set the places at the table. She sat, bringing her legs up, folded underneath herself like she did as a kid, and waited for her mother to join her before taking a bite.

"Did you get over here alright? The weather looks a bit dreary."

"It is," she said between stabbing the pancakes with her fork, "but it's pretty quiet out so it wasn't a problem."

"Good," she nodded. "Did you tell Rick where you would be today?"

"Not in so many words. He knows what day it is so when I told him I'd have my phone off he didn't seem to mind. It sounded like he was anticipating it, asking if I needed anything or if I had plans for dinner."

"You know you could've told him he could join us later."

Kate shook her head 'no.' That wasn't happening. It was enough that she had to struggle through telling him he wouldn't hear from her at all during the day, he certainly didn't need to see her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'm sure. This is our thing and…I don't want to change it. At least not yet."

Instead of probing for a deeper meaning behind her answer Johanna settled for finishing the meal with her daughter in companionable silence. They shared light small talk as they washed up – Kate asking her mother how her latest case was going, Johanna inquiring about Lanie and the boys, Alexis – not moving to the living room until each dish was appropriately washed or packed with leftovers.

"Did you decide what year you want to start with?" Kate asked the question as she followed her mother into the living room, ready to curl up on the couch for the day.

"I was thinking it's been a while since we watched the early years. Do you have a preference?"

"Your wedding? Then you can pick."

Her mother smiled, small but enough, "Sounds perfect." Johanna popped the tape in the VCR, plucked the remote up from the top of the TV cabinet and settled back on the couch beside her daughter.

The video started during pictures before the ceremony. "Who's recording again?" Kate questioned, trying to take her own role call of everyone in the shot and thinking of who was left to hold the camera.

"I think my cousin Beth. Her fiancé was the photographer so she ended up with the video camera by chance."

"Mmm," nodded. She loved watching the candid portions of her parents' wedding. On the screen her grandmother was busy fussing over her mom's dress, sternly instructing the bridesmaids on how to arrange her train while she adjusted the veil. She giggled, "Grandma must've been running around like a mad woman all day."

"Oh she was," Johanna laughed back. "Every little thing had to be absolutely perfect and if it wasn't the way she wanted it someone was going to hear about it."

The camera shifted over to where the groomsmen were hanging out, all of them thinking they were cool in their suits with their hands clasped loosely in front of them. Then there was her dad, standing at the edge of the crowd watching Johanna as she withstood her mother's tutting around.

"Your grandmother hated that I wanted to take pictures before the ceremony. You know how superstitious she was – always thought it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

"I think it suits you. You guys never did anything they way people wanted you to."

"Neither do you," her mother whispered.

She was too busy watching her father's face to answer the comment. He looked so…happy. Yet…slightly ridiculous. "I still can't believe you let him keep the mustache."

Johanna huffed. "Well it _was_ the style back then. Just be happy he got rid of it by the time you turned ten."

They laughed, joking and reminiscing about the day he came home without the facial hair, teasing them for knowing something was different but not noticing _it_ right away. The two watched the whole video, only fast forwarding through the part that always made Johanna cry – the vows – and spend a good chunk of the hour remarking over the 70's fashion, and questioning what certain old friends were up to now.

Johanna chose Kate's least favorite tape next – her birth. It was awkard, she thought, and it would always _be_ awkward to watch yourself being born. She groaned when she saw which tape it was, as the camera focused on a very pregnant Johanna Beckett just days before Kate was born.

"Don't even, Katie. You said I pick next, so I picked. This is one of my favorites."

The younger Beckett woman huffed before plopping back down into the cushion, whining when her mother pulled her into her side as they leaned into the arm of the couch.

"_Jim, why are we doing this?"_ Johanna whined on the screen. She was seated in the rocking chair in what was little Katie's nursery.

"_Because, we are just days away from actually being parents and I want the baby to see how excited we were."_

"_She's not going to see this tape for years. If at all, if I decide to break the damn camera."_

Kate laughed into her mother's shoulder. "I'm sorry you were so miserable."

Johanna reached an arm around her daughter and hugged her. "Not really your fault. You were just so content, you didn't want to come out for anything."

"A week and a half late." Kate sang.

The tape jumped from her dad's narrated tour of their old apartment to a shot of Johanna in the hospital, all ready to go.

"_Excited, Jo?"_

"_Scared as hell."_

Pause.

"_But excited right?"_ She couldn't see her dad – he was too busy holding the camera – but Kate loved being able to imagine the grin that had to have been on his face in those hours before they became _them_.

"_So excited_." Her mother already sounded so tired in the video, but she was beaming as she pulled her dad's hand up to kiss it. Kate smiled into the warmth of her mom's arm, trying so, so hard not to cry.

Thankfully, her mother spared her the footage of her actual birth and the next thing she saw on the screen broke her.

She'd seen it before, dozens of times, but she couldn't hold back the tears when the awkward, crooked angle came into focus – her mother holding the camera this time, from her hospital bed, pointing it at her dad. He was perched on one of the cushioned chairs in the hospital room, Katie in his arms all swaddled in pink, looking at her like someone had just turned on the sun.

"_Smile for me, Jim_."

"_Can't."_ He answered. _"I can't stop looking at her, Jo."_

Her mom giggled from behind the lens.

"_Then bring her over here. Time for her first close up."_

The camera shook and rocked as she scooted back in the bed, her dad carefully walking towards her.

"_Come on, Katie, you want to see Momma? She's having a lot of fun with the video camera, isn't she?"_

"_Because you weren't three days ago? Following me around the house?"_

"_Shh. Don't make me look bad in front of her."_

The camera tilted down, zoomed in on her sleeping face.

"You guys did have a lot of fun with that video camera. Long as I can remember." Her voice was thick with tears. She swiped at her eyes while her mother did the same.

"One of your dad's favorite things was recording everything you did. I used to hate it. But now-"

"I love being able to watch them now. Even though they're embarrassing."

"Oh, but you were so cute."

Kate managed a smile, watching the frozen image on the screen of herself in her dad's arms for one of the very first times.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you know…how did you know you wanted to marry Dad?"

"Well, one day I woke up in my apartment, and I got myself to work but…it didn't feel like the day had started until he met me in the break room, kissed me good morning and handed me a cup of coffee. I just _knew_. My days were always better with your dad. And then with you."

Kate thought while her mother ran her hand gently up and down her arm. Her parents were the closet couple she had ever seen in her life. They always did everything together when she was younger, and even if they fought it would only last a day.

"Why, sweetheart?"

"Just…been thinking about things lately. Will showed up on one of my cases a few weeks ago. Well," she paused, "that's not entirely true, he had me put on his."

"And, you're questioning things with him?"

"With Will? No. We're….long-over, and that's fine. But then we had this undercover thing, and Castle refused to let me do it myself. Insisted even, that we went in as a couple."

"And? Sounds pretty bold to me."

Her voice fell to a whisper, "It was. I don't know," she sat up, pulled her sweatshirt back in to place and tightened her ponytail, "It's all just been on my mind." She let out a heavy breath and ran her hands over her face, leaned into the other end of the couch so that she was facing her mom, knees pulled into her chest. "I think we're actually going somewhere."

Johanna mirrored her position, "Is that something you want? Because if you want my opinion on this, Rick's really good for you."

Kate blinked, very unsure of what to make of the statement, and stared at Johanna.

"Katie, you have had bad relationships, and you've had good ones. Then you had Will, and things were great, but the two of you were so alike it was hard to be around."

Her mouth dropped open, "You're telling me this _now_!?"

"Whoops?" Kate rolled her eyes. "My point is, you and Rick are not the same person, and that's a good thing. You're lighter than I've seen you in a long time."

Kate didn't say a word, instead thinking about how much more fun work has been with Castle, and how many ridiculous things he got her to eat and do after work. Alexis was always begging her to discuss some novel or another, or to join them for movie nights. The Castles were…fun.

"You're smiling." Her mother teased.

Kate shook her head trying to hide behind her hand. "Yeah, I just…things are good with Castle."

"I'm glad."

They shared the smile for a moment, thankful for the company, and the good talk on what was their least favorite day of the year.

"So, what year next?" Her mother asked her, standing to change the tape in the VCR.

"Surprise me," Kate called from the couch, settling back into her mother's side when she sat.

They watched as the screen popped with color again, this time Kate looked to be about six – her first bike, riding in Central Park with her dad.

"I miss him," she whispered.

Johanna leaned down, pressed a kiss to her daugher's head as she squeezed her shoulder. "Me too. He'd be so proud of you, Katie."

* * *

><p>When Kate crawled back into her own bed that night she turned her phone on for the first time all day. In her dark bedroom the screen cast a bright, pale blue glow as it slowly came back to life, refreshing itself with her new emails and missed texts.<p>

A slew of them from Castle:

_Let me know if you need anything today._

_Just letting you know that the precinct is no fun without you._

_Ryan and Espo don't appreciate my barista skills._

The last one was a photo of what was becoming 'her' side of the bed at his place – he must've held the phone above himself to take it because she could see the edge of his head in the shot.

_Miss you. I'll bring the coffee in the AM….as if you expected otherwise._

The notes brought a slim smile to her face as she texted back.

_Thank you, Castle._

She turned the device on vibrate and dropped it to the nightstand. She took one last look at the photo on her nightstand – her seven year-old self in the hammock of her parents' arms, grinning (sans one front tooth), as they held her up in the backyard of their cabin, fireflies dancing in the landscape behind them – rolled over, and dropped off to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Guess what, peeps!? Story is 99.999% FINISHED. Meaning, I just have to read through everything before I post it. Will post every other day for you lovely readers. Thanks for sticking with this!<em>


	22. The Turn

She had had a wonderful afternoon wandering shops with Lanie, even found a few new tops and a potential dress pick for Castle's New Year's Eve party. They chatted and laughed and she completely forgot that the writer was across the country working while his daughter visited her mother.

In preparation for working the Christmas Eve shift she had taken two days off and was planning on spending them on herself – so far, so good.

They were just remarking over Esposito stumbling over the case details in front of Lanie – refusing to actually ask the ME out – when they stepped through the doors of Macy's to leave and found themselves surrounded by a crowd.

They were calling out to her amidst flash bulbs and flags of notepads, questioning her relationship with Castle, her job? Asking if she was quitting the force to be with him? If he had left her to go back to his ex-wife?

The world seemed to close in on her, their voices pounding against her head. The lights, blinding.

Lanie's hand came around her arm, snapping her back to the present and drawing her anger up to the surface of her mind.

"My life is none of your business, get out of my face or you'll find yourself in my lockup, making friends with a three hundred pound ex-bouncer coming off a meth high."

With nothing else to say she shoved at one of the cameras and let Lanie lead her away from the crowd and around a corner where they found an empty bench. Lanie practically pushed her down to sit, demanding that she take a breath and pull herself together.

The air was coming in heaves – Lanie had a point – she hadn't even realized she was so overwhelmed.

"Lanie," she squeaked. "Did that seriously just happen?"

Her friend sighed and sat down beside her, "Yep. They think you and Castle split? You haven't, have you? If you didn't tell me, Girl-"

"No, Lanie," she practically whined, "We haven't broken up, it must be some stupid rumor they're floating because they've got nothing better to report." Kate let her head fall into her hands. "And I would've told you," she mumbled after the fact.

"Okay, okay. Just calm down. I think your little display probably shook 'em off, but we'll wait a minute anyway."

"Oh, god," she moaned. "This is just fantastic. The last thing I need is for this to end up in a paper. Rick's working on press for the book and then there's you know, my job!"

"I know." She blew out a thin stream of a breath, gathering her own nerves, "What are you going to tell Castle?"

Kate paused, leaned back into the wooden slats of the bench, thinking. No, this wasn't something for him to worry about. If it happened again, she'd concede, but it was only a handful of idiots with cameras. She handled it.

"I'm not going to tell him."

"Wha-"

"He's busy working, he's with Alexis. He doesn't need to worry about this, especially if we were able to get out of it so quickly."

"Kate…"

"Lanie, don't." She started her friend down, dead serious on the issue, "He doesn't need to know." Kate stood, wiped her hands off on her jeans and collected her bags, "Can we go, now?"

Wordlessly, Lanie nodded, picking up her own things. "Just be careful, alright? Don't want you becoming one of the faces on the cover of _The Inquirer_, got it?"

"I'll do my best."

The pair briefly peeked back around the corner to make sure the bunch of paparazzi were gone before turning in the other direction and resuming their trip.

All while Kate fought to squelch down the terror clenching in her stomach.

* * *

><p>He was in between signings, strolling around the city with Alexis. It was sunny, and breezy, and altogether <em>not <em>where he wanted to be for Christmas, but his daughter wanted to see her mother and he had been meaning to do the tour, so it just sort of worked out.

Except he couldn't stop thinking about home, and the precinct, and Kate.

A first Christmas together should not be spent on separate ends of the country.

"Dad?" His daughter yanked on his hand. "You okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah. Just thinking, Pumpkin."

Alexis shrugged and gently swung their joined hands back and forth as they roamed the streets. Light-posts were wrapped in garland, large metallic cut-outs of ornaments and seasonal characters dangled from signs and in store windows – everyone had a smile on their face.

The two were having a great afternoon, despite his lingering regret for not being with his girlfriend. His daughter treated him to hot chocolate, he treated breakfast, and they spent the time they had while Meredith was filming and he was on a break, together.

But the bubble had to burst, and _did_ with a bang when their walk took them past a newsstand and the headline caught his eye.

_Lonely Holiday for Castle's Muse?_

He snatched the gossip rag up before Alexis even realized what he was doing, too focused on the printed lies to notice the widening of her eyes as she grabbed another copy to skim through.

_Have New York's own Richard Castle and girlfriend-slash-muse Kate Beckett hit the skids? It certainly seems so. Castle jetted off to the west coast for the holiday leaving his girl, a Detective with the NYPD, back in the city. When we caught up with the detective just outside of Macys she declined to comment - even threatened our reporter before storming off with a friend. There has been no word on this subject from the writer or his staff, but you be the judge – are Castle and Beckett through?_

He practically growled when he glanced at the photo accompanying the text – Kate, frazzled, with her head ducked down as Lanie pulled her through the small crowd of paparazzi.

Shit – it was not what he wanted for Kate, _at all_.

"Dad?" Alexis whispered, "I think we should get back to the hotel. Call Kate?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, let's go." Castle threw the paper down on the sidewalk, not caring that he didn't pay and left with Alexis clinging to his arm.

* * *

><p>Castle nervously tossed his phone back and forth from palm to palm as he paced his hotel room. He had managed to get Alexis to meet Meredith at the studio, stay with her for the night, so he could talk to Paula and Kate and decide on whether or not to continue the press tour in California. He watched from the large picture window as people ran around the city floors below him in their heels and designer clothes.<p>

LA, he thought. So very different from his life in New York.

He ran a hand over his face wearily, settling down on the sofa in his suite. With a sigh he tapped through his phone for Kate's name on his favorite contacts list and tapped the screen to call.

It rang. And rang. The breath was caught in his throat, terrified that she wouldn't answer.

Then he heard the line click, silence on the other end for a moment.

"Hey Castle." Her voice was so soft, and so not like her.

He hated it.

"Kate, I just saw a paper, why didn't you call and tell me they'd been bothering you?"

He could hear her sigh on the other end and the shift of her couch cushions – thank goodness it was her day off. "I knew you were working. I didn't want to pull you away from that, and it was stupid Castle, I didn't think it was a big deal."

"So why do you sound so upset?"

He was worried. She sounded like she could have been upset – or crying – and he wouldn't blame her if she were mad at him.

"Castle you're supposed to be working and spending time with Alexis. I'm a big girl."

"Kate, that's not the point, I didn't want any of that part of my life for you. It sucks, and _I_ can't stand it, how could I ask that of you?"

Her breathing was heavy, hesitant.

"I talked to Paula right after I saw it. She's setting one of my lawyers on that magazine for what they printed. I'm demanding a retraction – they had no business bothering you. That's my line in the sand Kate, they can chase me all they want but they need to stay away from you and Alexis."

She sniffled, laughed for what she thought would lighten the mood of their call. "Thank you, Castle. That's sweet."

"Are you sure you're alright? Please tell me it was just the one time."

"I'm fine, really. Just a bit shaken up I guess. And yeah, it was just the one time. You'd think they'd be smarter though and remember that I carry a gun."

"If they were smart they never would've been there."

Another lull fell over the conversation. The writer had stood, begun to slowly pace the area of his room while he thought to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything.

"I'm sorry, Kate."

"Don't apologize, it wasn't your fault." She sounded lighter, and far closer to her usual self, "Tell me how L.A. is."

"Oh," he sighed, "too sunny. It's Christmas, but it's not…_Christmas_, you know?"

"Mhmm. How's the work for the book?"

"Good. Signed some books, took some pictures at a few local places. It's interesting enough. Alexis is having a good time, though, so…that makes me happy."

"I'm glad she's enjoying herself."

"Sometimes I wonder how much she fakes it for Meredith and I but…she's at least got us both for the holiday this year, so I won't push it."

"I think that's probably best, Castle," her voice lilted, probably partially agreeing and partially amused by his worrying. A TV turned on in the background.

"Hey," he whispered to her, "I miss you."

"Miss you, too. Though the precinct has been quiet without you."

The tease. He huffed, "Ha, ha, Detective. Just wait, I'll be back soon enough."

* * *

><p>Castle was still irritated with the press. He had put on his game face, grinned his way through the last few signings he had booked, and only had one interview left to film with Craig Ferguson's show the following day. The end of the trip couldn't come soon enough.<p>

Paula had let him have the afternoon to himself, which he craved, while she finalized the details for the show tomorrow – they were not to talk about his relationship with Kate at all – and booked flights for he and Alexis to take back to New York the day after the holiday. His daughter was spending the day with her mother – probably shopping – and the three would spend the next day, which happened to be Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day together.

He couldn't help but question if he was doing the right thing, though he knew how excited Alexis was for them to actually be together peacefully for two days out of the year.

He could do it for her.

Except he couldn't shake his conversation with Kate from his mind. She had assured him that she wasn't mad at him – not in the slightest – and she understood that the incident in the paper wasn't even in the realm of being his fault. But there was still a pit in his stomach.

Two years ago he wouldn't have cared if the girl he was dating showed up in some gossip rag. Two years ago he didn't care what he did or how it made him look so long as Alexis was out of the spotlight.

But then he got bored with his character and bored with the way he was living his life and his mother walked in and proposed he date the woman who just so happened to question him about a murder shortly thereafter.

And then there was Kate.

Wow, he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, had it all really happened that quickly?

He was thinking about how much he had changed, how much Kate had made him want to change when he came up on a jewelry store.

There was already an original copy of _Crime and Punishment_ he had managed to track down wrapped and waiting for him to give it to her, back in New York, but maybe he could find something sparkly to go with it.

Earrings?

A necklace?

Without really thinking he walked into the store, surprisingly busy for the day before Christmas, and began to meander around. Thankfully, he wasn't desperate to find anything, unlike the rest of the men in the shop seemed to be, and took to peering into the cases from a distance. Castle was just trying to get a look at a low case at the counter over shoulders when the two men in front of it split apart and he slid himself in the gap.

Rings.

Certainly not what he was looking for but…

They were stunning. From the four in the front row he couldn't decide which would look best on Kate's hand – not that it mattered, it was far too early for engagement rings –

But a man could think about it, couldn't he?

He had no idea where Kate's head was on the subject, after all they hadn't really discussed it, though he suspected she wanted more one day.

So did he.

He quickly slipped back out of the shop and back into the hustle of the city with diamonds sparkling in his head.

Soon.


	23. The Tease

Kate stood near the door to her mother's apartment impatiently tapping her foot. With a small huff she slid her phone out of her clutch to glance again at the time and thought about whether she could get away with just leaving on her own or not.

She probably couldn't.

It was not like her to be late – ever. For her entire life she was punctual, arriving everywhere on time, if not early, and even had the tendency to be annoyingly precise when figuring how much time public transportation would take her to get from point A to point B.

It was a gift, she supposed.

But it was a bitch at times like this, when she was ready, set to walk out the door and there was a hold up. Namely, her mother's slower fashion of leaving the house.

"Are you ready yet," she called. "It's going to be impossible to get across town if we wait any longer."

"Alright, I'm ready, I'm ready." Her mother was still pinning earrings in her ears, nudging her heels along with her feet. "You can relax now," Johanna sang, almost mocking her daughter's penchant for timeliness.

A puff of air escaped Kate's lips, blowing up a strand of her hair that was still hanging in her face. Thankfully before she could complain again – or physically push her mother out the door she appeared at her side, shoes-on and ready to finally leave.

"Thank you," she sighed, opening the door. She let her mother walk through, locked the door behind them and led them down the hall, downstairs and out the building. They had made it into a cab and were five minutes into what Kate anticipated to be a slow drive when she noticed the staring.

Her mother was sitting on the opposite end of the backseat, eyeing her as she watched the coat-wrapped and mitten-clad passersby out the window. "What?"

"Nothing."

Kate tilted her head down, eyes trained, questioning.

"Just a bit excited, I guess."

Younger Beckett laughed, amused at the entertaining rhythm to her mother's voice – a little girly, even – "Mom, it's just Castle."

"Kate, you've been dating for months – almost a year really – to _you_ he's 'just Castle.' To me, he's still the author with famous friends who just so happens to be dating my daughter."

"Jeez, you make it sound like he's some big screen actor or something."

Her mother mirrored the look she had given her just moments before. The cab driver had to be amused by the two of them as they powered through the busy streets, New Year's Eve crowds and snow falling around them.

"I'm not allowed to be excited that we're going to one of the man's parties?"

She just tucked her head down, trying to evade, looking out the window again. She had been to a couple of get-togethers at the Castles' – plus his birthday party, and the book party…but she really had no idea what to expect for New Year's. Every time Kate thought she knew Rick he'd surprise her. First it was his attitude, then his dedication to _her_ job, then just…him, and the way he'd been dating her for the past nine months.

And now she was taking her mother to his building for a New Year's Eve bash.

Before she realized she was even doing it she was blowing a thin stream of air, remarking at how much her life had changed in the past year, smiling into the back of her hand as she leaned against the cab door.

"Just don't embarrass me, okay?" She tried to plead but since the remark came out with a grin it just sounded silly.

"Because I've ever done that before?"

"Alright, fine," she huffed, "How about you just work on not embarrassing yourself?"

Johanna continued to toss sly comments and silly arguments at her daughter as the yellow cab approached the writer's building – the conversation distracting them both from thinking about the impending soirée. Both had been discussing the event for days, especially since Kate's run-in with the media and she was considering backing out of going.

Her mother threatened her, _"The man invited me, too, Katie, and I am not going without you."_

Thus the two of them found gowns and were riding the elevator up to the top floor – conveniently used for such events – that the writer had reserved for the night.

* * *

><p>The space had been decorated beautifully. Metallic streamers, balloons and confetti everywhere – all in gold and silver, with elegant black, well…everything else - all set against the backdrop of the city on three of the room's four sides made up of floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was stunning, but Johanna found she was far more interested in observing the party guests.<p>

Kate had been wonderful, introduced her to everyone she could – whom she knew – and caught her up with the boys and Lanie, even Captain Montgomery had been invited. She had gotten to see Alexis again for the first time in weeks, since she was last in her office, and briefly chatted with Martha before the woman jetted off to a theatre party.

Then she spent the better part of an hour watching her daughter dance with the host of the evening in the middle of the room.

Johanna was quietly sipping her drink at one of the high tables set up along the edges of the dance floor – some 'Richard Castle Special' the bartender had handed her – when the man himself made himself known.

"Having a good time?"

A smile for the writer, who looked like he had been running around in circles all night attending to his guests and his girlfriend – her daughter – with what was shaping up to be quite the classy party.

"Yes, I am. Your friend Mr. Cannell is quite the charmer. Even talked me into a dance."

"Why yes, I saw," he smirked at her, "any chance you'd be willing to entertain just one more writer this evening?"

Quickly, she glanced at the colorful countdown clock set up near a television set – only 11:12, she had enough time to indulge Rick Castle and get him back to her daughter for midnight – "Why not?"

The man was just as much a gentleman as Kate had been telling her – surprisingly, so – and led her to the center of the room where a gentle Louis Armstrong tune was playing. Apparently a break from the more upbeat music before the excitement of the impending new year began again. Castle pulled her into his arms, taking her right hand in his left and appropriately placing his own on her waist.

Not a word was said for a few bars.

"Should this be so awkward?" He asked of her.

"Probably not," she laughed. "Why _should_ it be awkward anyway? Just the host entertaining one of his guests."

"Well the rest of my guests are not the mother of my girlfriend and mentor to my daughter."

"Shouldn't that make it less awkward? With such important and worthwhile things that we have in common."

"You raise a good point."

"Hmm, maybe I should be a lawyer…."

He gently turned her, playfully swaying back and forth with her to Satchmo's trumpet rhythm.

"This is a really nice party Rick, thank you for inviting me."

He was tall, she noted, though not much taller than Kate, or herself, but enough that he looked down at her just slightly so with his answer. "Thank you for coming. Kate had mentioned you never really do much on New Year's, and I hate to think you'd be watching _Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve_ alone in your apartment."

"Hmm…" she hummed, "and just what else did my daughter happen to mention?"

"Not much, really. If I can be honest?"

"Of course."

"She doesn't like to talk much about her – and your – past. But when she does…." he paused, clearly thinking about those special moments between the two of them, "just, know that you matter to her. A lot. You and your husband."

Johanna just smiled thinly, touched by the sentiment and knowing that her daughter was sharing those sorts of memories with the writer. "The feeling is mutual. And, you know, she's rather fond of you and your family as well."

He beamed, speechless.

"You know, even when I had met your mother all those months ago, I really didn't think Katie would _actually_ end up with you. Even though she read your books, I never thought she'd go for a date."

"Wait – she's read my books? How many are we talking here?"

Johanna squinted her eyes, amused by his shock and apparent desperation to know just how much of a fan Kate was. "So, all the times you've been in her apartment, you've never taken a close look at her bookshelf?"

He thought. No, he hadn't. Her bookshelf was in her office, and they were never in there, instead spending time in either her kitchen and living room, or the bedroom. "No…I guess I haven't."

She shook her head and paused, figuring out if and how to tell the man about his books' presence in their lives. Thinking she might as well just go for it, she took one deep breath and told him. "The two of us combined own your entire set of works. After Jim died things were tough. Neither of us were in a good place, and I was starting to worry about what was going to happen next when one day Katie came in, her eyes all puffy from crying again and handed me a book. Yours." She sniffled, still a tender spot in her memory, "_In Hail of Bullets_. She had found it on the wrong shelf at the bookstore – she was looking for some history book – and read the whole thing in one afternoon. You made her feel better, Rick. Both of us, actually. From that point on we just read everything of yours we could find."

When she looked back to his face he was stunned, slack-jawed and eyes glassy. "Wow. I, don't really know what to say to that."

"You don't have to say anything." She caught the time in her peripheral vision. Quarter to midnight. "How about you just go find Katie before the year's up, huh?"

His gulp was noticeable. "Yeah." Castle leaned in, gently kissed her cheek before striding off to find his suddenly missing date.

* * *

><p>Castle finally found her, alone on the balcony. It was such the cliché, he thought – she in her black, strapless gown, coat pulled tight around her shoulders as she gazed out over the city below. The sounds of every other party bounced off of buildings, the music from his – <em>their<em> – own created an interesting muted soundtrack for the moment.

He made sure to make noise as he walked over, and leaned against the ledge next to her, his side pressed to hers.

"It's beautiful out here," she spoke, seemingly to the city itself.

"Would you shoot me if I played the abused the cliché and said, 'so are you'?"

She chuckled, "I think I can let it go just this once."

"Good," he carefully turned her to face him with a hand to her waist, and brought her closer – for warmth, he told himself. "Because you are."

"The party's great. Everyone looks like they're enjoying themselves."

"Yeah? You, too?"

The 'yes' fell from her lips as they met his.

"Maybe next year you'll host it with me instead of just attending." He proposed between the gentle kisses they couldn't seem to end.

She froze in his arms.

"Castle, what do you-"

"Nothing," he stopped her, "I guess I've just been thinking about the year coming up, and where I see us."

"And…" she hesitated, "where would that be?"

He could see in her face how much she wanted to know what was on his mind, plus the borderline fear at realizing that while they'd been _saying_ things were serious, it was now all the more true.

"Well I don't know too specifically, if you're really asking," he teased as hands worked their way underneath her coat to press against her back, "but part of me wonders what you would say if I proposed."

Suddenly the noise from the party inside seemed to grow to four times its volume – the city around them booming.

Kate stuttered, the air seemed to come to her in the tiniest of breaths, her fingers tightening around his upper arms where they had found a resting spot while they were gently swaying to the echo from the party.

"If you-"

"Just think about it." He punctuated the sentiment with a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, for now content to let the subject drop.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay," she leaned into his hold, rested her head against his shoulder, tucked into him in the corner of the rather sizeable balcony. Castle was shocked that no one else had come out to take in the view as well. He heard someone call two minutes to midnight from the party. "Hey, Kate?"

"Hmm?"

"It's been a good year, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," she agreed, "2009 was pretty great." She leaned back again – he laced his fingers together to keep her from going too far – looked up at him, "I've got a feeling that 2010 could be even better."

He grinned, starting their own private countdown to the new year. "Five."

"Four."

"Three," he raised a hand to her cheek.

"Two," and she let herself lean into it."

With the final beat of the year gone, he leaned in, captured her lips with his as they melded closer together than he believed possible. She was chilly from their time outside, but sweet, hot with the passion and promise that they both knew the year held. The rest of the world had already begun to cheer the first moments of the year, but the writer and the detective remained locked in their embrace, warm in the middle of the city's winter.


	24. The Hamptons

Richard Castle felt like he was on top of the world. Nothing could touch him.

As he carefully pulled clothes from his closet and drawers to pack he thought about his plan. He went through everything in his head, retraced every detail trying to figure out if it was right, or if there was something he could change that would make it better. He considered the weather, transportation - would his contingency plan be good enough?

The weekend would be perfect, no matter what happened.

He was whistling some nonsense tune to himself, not paying attention to anything but what he was packing when a throat cleared in his doorway.

"I must say, Richard, I'm shocked that you haven't been packed for a week with how excited you've been about this weekend."

The writer glanced over his shoulder at his mother while he arranged things in his suitcase. "What can I say? I've grown up."

"Please," she scoffed playfully, "you are an overgrown child who gets giddy over every little thing. I know you've just been itching for this trip since you got the idea."

"So, I'm excited. Can you blame me?"

"No, no. Nothing wrong with it at all - it was just an observation." Martha stepped into the room, watching while her son folded shirts and paired socks for the weekend. "Have you told Kate where you're taking her?" She asked as she perched herself on the opposite edge of the bed from where he worked.

"Yes," he smiled. "I told her yesterday despite my intentions to surprise her. Apparently she just couldn't possibly pack without details."

He really didn't want to tell Kate about his plan. Her birthday had been earlier in the week, and even though they had done breakfast and she had dinner with her mother, it wasn't enough for him. In his mind, she should have to spend the week of her birthday - let alone the actual day - working, so Castle had decided that he was treating her to a relaxing weekend at his house in the Hamptons. Home-cooked dinner, the pool or the beach, maybe some shopping - he had it all figured out and had been rattling on about it to his mother and daughter since coming up with the idea.

"Richard, you don't question the sensibilities of a woman. You should know that by now."

He shrugged.

She probed for more information.

"So? Was she surprised?"

"I think so. I tried not to tell her specifics. Just enough so she could decide on what to bring."

Martha only nodded, leaning over to inspect the things he was packing for the long weekend. "You've done good, kiddo."

"Thank you, Mother." He grinned, head cocked, so pleased with himself for how well things were turning out.

"You better hold onto this girl, Richard. Kate's different from all those other woman you used to associate yourself with, you know."

"Yeah," he settled down onto the mattress, leaning over to lay on his side as they continued their conversation, "I know."

"I mean it," she stressed, narrowed the serious look she was giving him. "I know you two are serious but have you thought about where to go from here?"

He took in the question for a moment. He had thought about it - and had been thinking about it for weeks. His stumbling into jewelry stores and staring in shop windows was becoming a more frequent occurrence and he couldn't figure out exactly when it became a persistent tugging in the back of his head.

With a deep breath he looked back up at his mother, far too wise sometimes for the dramatic act she put on, and confessed. "I was looking at rings last month."

Her eyes widened and she gasped, but only for a beat before she smacked the back of his head lightly, chiding him for not telling her so sooner. "Well, what did you find?"

"Now," he held his hands out to her, in a motion to try and get her to relax, "I didn't buy anything. But the store caught my eye so I went in."

"But you didn't by anything?"

"No."

"But you're thinking about it."

Silence. Yes - he was thinking about it, wasn't he? The idea of asking Kate to marry him was becoming less and less of a hypothetical situation - something that wasn't in their cards - and more of a real picture in his head. He found himself daydreaming about it. About them. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it."

Martha smiled at her son from her place on the edge of the mattress, leaned over and rustled his hair. "Thank goodness. When are you going to ask her?"

"I don't know. It's - it's too soon. We haven't really discussed it and the past couple of months haven't exactly been the easiest. Trust me, when I know, you'll know."

She nodded, not saying anything but silently giving him her blessing to stay on the same path with the detective they had all come to think of as one of their own. "Do it right this time, got it?"

"Got it," he laughed back as she stood and left. The writer let himself enjoy the quiet comfort of his room for a moment before getting up and double-checking what he had packed. Once he was sure that he was prepared he zipped everything up, snagged his phone and keys from the dresser and headed out to pick up the birthday girl from the precinct to steal her away for the weekend.

* * *

><p>He couldn't believe the woman in the passenger was anything but her normal self and it was amazing. Kate spent half of the drive out of the city drifting between silly conversations and resting her eyes, head leaned against the window. They joked about Ryan and Esposito, he filled her in on Alexis's latest drama in school and how much she was hoping to work with Johanna again soon.<p>

"I'll have to tell her to set up something else. She's been asking _me_ if Alexis was still interested. Guess that answered her question."

"Yeah," he snuck a glance at her while he drove, "she'd love it. I know she really got a lot out of it in the fall."

"Remind me when we get back to the city to let her know."

They continued their drive, in relative silence as Kate insisted she needed a break before the "mystery weekend" he had in store for her. It wasn't until they made the slow crawl up the driveway that he heard her again.

She probably didn't think he could hear the 'wow' fall from her lips...but he did.

Castle quickly brought the car to a stop, flipped the engine off and hopped out and around to open the door for her. "Well," he took her hand to help her out, "what do you think?"

Kate was looking everywhere but at him, taking slow, measured steps in a slow circle to survey the property. "It's…stunning, Castle. Stunning."

"Come on," gently, trying not to make her uncomfortable he rested a hand on her lower back, guided her up the steps to the front door. "I'll get the bags after I give you the grand tour."

* * *

><p>Rick sent Kate upstairs with orders to enjoy the Jacuzzi tub - alone - while he got things together for the evening. He told her to take her time and forget about him for a while, and not to come downstairs until she was sufficiently warm and relaxed. A little uneasy about the order, she listened. And the tub was spectacular, she couldn't deny, and by the time she slipped into the dress she bought, face made-up and hair lying in loose waves over her shoulders and back, the whole house was beginning to smell deliciously like a homemade meal.<p>

She found him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, clean and dressed himself, in crisp black pants and the royal blue shirt he knew she loved. She had slipped into a purple, long-sleeved, jersey-material dress and was toeing around the house barefoot. It was January, but the house was warm, so why not?

"Castle-" she hadn't even gotten completely downstairs, was still standing on the third step from the bottom in awe of what he had done with the place. "It looks amazing."

He had strung lights around the living room – draped them along shelves and around picture frames and knick-knacks – and pushed all the furniture out of the way. There was a table set for two – candlelit – in the center of the room, bathed in the golden glow and surrounded by the music of an orchestra.

One of his hands was extended towards her so he could gently guide her down the remaining steps and into the room. "Glad you like it."

Her nose caught a whiff of the aroma in the kitchen. "You cooked, too?"

"Surprised, Detective?"

"Surprised you had time, really."

"Kate, you were upstairs for an hour and a half."

"Really?" It did not seem possible to her - had she fallen asleep? A corner of her mind felt bad for leaving Castle alone for that amount of time, but then again, he made her do it, right? "Didn't seem like it. You didn't need help, did you?"

"Kate," he turned, took her hands in his, "I wouldn't ask you to set up your own birthday dinner. Besides," he leaned in to press his lips to hers, "I like doing things like this." She smiled as he reached up to tuck one of the errant strands of hair behind her ear. "Like it?"

"Castle, I love it." She paused to take a breath – think of all of it – "You didn't have to."

"I am going to ignore the fact that you just said that, because I wanted to do this, not only because it's your birthday, but because you deserve it. So, come on, I made pasta carbonara, special for you." With a smile, he gently led her towards the small table, pulled out her chair for her and moved to plate their dishes while she poured the wine.

The dinner was more than Kate could have asked for, and as she watched the man across the table from her chat about working with her, and his daughter, and about writing – so animated – Kate realized that everything was perfect – and just as she thought she'd never have. He had a spark in his eyes with every word.

After their meal he succumbed to her begging to help and let her rinse wine glasses while he put dishes into the dishwasher and took care of everything else.

When he pulled a mixer from the counter's back corner she was confused. She squinted at him as he pulled out eggs, sugar, milk and cream. And cocoa powder?

"Castle," she laughed, "what are we doing now?"

He turned to look at her, fridge open, as if she were insane. "We're making ice cream."

Her mouth fell open, not sure if she believed what he was trying to tell her.

"Trust me, there's nothing like homemade ice cream, and even though you have to wait awhile for it to freeze and you know…actually turn into ice cream, it's worth it. Come on," he nodded her over to him and began to measure ingredients to start things going.

* * *

><p>After laughing and leaving their ice cream to freeze, the couple curled up on one of the Castles' patio loveseats, wrapped in a large fleece blanket. The air was strangely warm for late January in the Hamptons, making the fleece and each other just enough for lazily watching the beach and the stars. Kate shifted in Castle's arms, drawing herself closer to his side, head resting against his shoulder she remarked at the view. The sun had set only moments ago, leaving the sky a muted purple-grey color. Waves gently washed up on the shore and they could hear small children playing in the spray further up the beach.<p>

"It's beautiful here. Thank you for bringing me up."

The writer twisted down to kiss her cheek, practically wrapping himself around her in the process. "You're welcome. We're lucky the weather's held out." He thought of winter weekends with Alexis spent inside bundled up – the weather outside far too cold for anything else.

"Yeah, can't see stars like this in the city," she mused. They didn't say much more – content to just be in each other's company. But somehow, despite her nerves, Kate managed to find her voice and form the thoughts that had been plaguing her since the first of the year into a sentence. "Did you mean what you said at the New Year's party?"

"Hm? About what?"

"About proposing." The fact that he said nothing worried her. Maybe she shouldn't've asked, she thought. He probably had something planned and she had just ruined it. For both of them. Except she knew she would've cracked eventually. After all, the façade she'd found had been chipping for the past two and a half weeks. She was pretty sure she was holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

"Of course I meant it," he tightened his arms around her. "I'd never freak you out this much without meaning it."

His attempt to ease the tension made her smile – sort of. "When?"

"When, what?" He whispered into her hair – trying to distract her, she knew. "When will I propose?"

"Yeah," she squeaked.

"I don't know."

Shocked, she squirmed to look at him, twisting awkwardly on the small couch to look at him while still keeping her chilled legs under the blanket. "You don't know?"

"No."

He was very matter-of-fact about it. It irked her. "Why not?" And she hated how girly _that_ made her sound.

"Because…I just don't. Why? Do you have some kind of timeline I should keep in mind?"

"No," she shook her head, "I was just wondering." She brushed it off like it was nothing. Tried to, at least.

"Mhmm."

They watched the gentle to-and-fro of the tide, listening to the laughter up the beach begin to fade as the children tuckered out for the night. One of the buoys out in the water was rocking back and forth, catching both of their attention.

"I have been thinking about it." He finally confessed after a deep breath – enough that she could feel it from her place at his side. "What I don't know is if you have."

"Castle, you not so subtly mentioned asking me to marry you less than three weeks ago – what do you think I've been thinking about?"

"Okay," he remarked with a casual tilt of his head, "then I guess the more appropriate question here is how much did I worry you?"

"You didn't worry me," she argued, "just surprised me, is all."

"So?"

"So?"

"Well, we might as well talk, since I surprised you so effectively."

"Okay," she sat up, dragging the edge of the blanket with her as she crossed her legs and turned next to him, "then can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why did you mention it like that? Then."

"Truth?"

"Please."

He looked deep into her eyes, carefully chose his words before indulging her curiosity. "It's been on my mind for a while, and then your mom and I were talking-"

"Great," she huffed.

"Yes, really, because it just made me more sure of us."

"So you didn't just _actually_ ask me?"

"No, because we still needed to have this conversation. Kate," his voice wavered, "I've been married twice – and I have no idea how you feel about that."

She thought, "It's never really worried me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Should it? You've never given me anything to doubt aside from your ability to listen and stay in the car."

"So, you've thought about it?"

"Marriage?" She took only the briefest of pauses, "Yes. I have. Surprised?"

He squinted. "Maybe just a little. You don't seem like the kind of girl to cut wedding dresses out of magazines."

"I don't know Castle," she swung a leg over, settled herself on his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck, "the things you don't know about me could fill a book." Before he could answer she had leaned in, lips meeting his in a searing hot kiss, but only for a moment before she broke away again. "I guess what I'm saying is, 'm not as skittish on the top as you may think."

"I'm not sure that's what I would say," he planted a series of open-mouthed kisses to her neck. "You're anything but skittish. I don't know too many people who love as fiercely as you do, Kate."

She could feel the blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

"I know you don't like to hear it," his hands found place at her hips, "but you do. You're the most committed person I know. Just didn't think you had wedding fantasies."

She scoffed, tossing her head back, more or less unintentionally teasing him with the view, "I don't have 'fantasies,' but every girl has thoughts every now and then about what it would be like to have a wedding."

"Hmm. Good to know."

With a nod she sat back, looked at the man with real attention. Closer than she normally did. He looked relaxed, not at all like the writer she knew who was always thinking and working out stories in his head. "You're sweet."

A smile grew. "So, does that mean I can ask you how you'd feel if I proposed?"

"No," she laughed, "but you're smart," she leaned in to kiss him, "I'm sure you can come up with a theory."

Kate leaned in even closer, her lips on fire as they danced with his. She let him deepen the kiss as his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close while the world turned around them. Kate could feel herself slipping, her judgment fading and her desire for Castle becoming the only thing she could focus on. She didn't care anymore that they had been talking about marriage, didn't want to think about what that meant, and didn't even notice the family walking along the beach in full view of them, and what they were doing.

She moaned into his mouth, the roll of her hips causing the blanket to slip from her shoulders and fall to the deck. When the cool breeze made her shiver Castle paused, moving so he could lift her into his arms and began to stand.

"I think it's time to go inside," he said, breathless and worked up.

"Yes," she agreed, somehow managing to fit a full breath of air into her lungs as he stepped over the forgotten fleece and carried her back into the house.

* * *

><p>Kate woke the next morning, curled tightly into Castle's side while he lay on his back. Quietly she reached up, traced a finger gently down the side of his face and resting her hand in the crook of his neck.<p>

From her place in the bed she could see out the window, finding that the sun was just beginning to peek through the clouds, reflecting brilliantly off of the ocean. The day was going to be beautiful, she could feel it.

She looked back up at Castle. Her writer who was going to propose to her one day.

In a second the bliss of their night burst into thin air and it hit her.

He was going to propose to her one day.


	25. The Burst

The second that Rick Castle opened the door for Clark Murray he knew things weren't as good as he had hoped they would be. Murray just thinly smiled, held up the file under his arm and asked if he could come in.

The two settled down in his office, and with a grim sigh the medical examiner began to explain his findings.

"The original ME concluded that the stab wounds were random. Now, maybe the killer got lucky, but you see this wound right here?"

Castle nodded, wearily only looking at the photographs of Kate's father out of the edge of his eye.

"It's a low angle thrust to the kidney. The wound size indicated that the knife was twisted. His body would've went into immediate shock."

"What about these?" He gestured at the various other wounds in the photos, confused with what he was hearing.

"Well, their angles indicate that they were delivered after he was immobilized and on the ground – they're just for show." He firmly rested his finger on the mark he was most concerned with. "This is the one that killed him."

It all seemed too calculated for gang violence. There was no way a druggie or someone just looking for something good to steal would be that lucky. "This is sounding less like a random killing and more like a targeted murder."

"There's more," he paused, "on a hunch I checked the city ME files to see if this was an isolated incident, and found three other stabbings around that time that the me dismissed as…random."

"Were they related?"

Murray looked at him hard, "Are you sure you want to know?"

* * *

><p>Rick stood still watching the rain come down outside the window, turning everything over in his mind. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, by any means, nor was it what he was expecting to hear. But…he argued with himself, what did he really think was going to happen. Murray would find absolutely nothing to suggest anything despicable and he'd have to tell Kate all her instincts were wrong? Would that have been any better?<p>

Question posed, he thought, no. No, that would probably be worse.

Thunder boomed far above the city.

"You have to tell her, you know."

He turned from the spot he'd been standing in for the past forty-five minutes to look at his mother, ran a hand over his tired face. "You know what that would do to her?"

"You have information that could lead to her father's killer, you can't keep that from her."

"She said that the last time she looked into the case she almost lost herself. That it wasn't until she found her mother with a pretty brutal hangover that she stopped. I guess they both took it pretty hard, and Johanna was just as upset about what Kate was doing. Scared her into moving on." He shoved his hands angrily into his pockets, dejected, sighed - "I can't do that to them. I can't tell her."

Martha looked at her son, took in the dark circles underneath his eyes, the slump of his shoulders and the exhausted, nervous tone of voice. "I hope you're right." She shook her head and left the room with a sad sigh.

Alone, Castle rounded the desk and stared at the file. It was the last thing he wanted to do - to not tell Kate the truth. But when he thought of the alternative and what she might do, the fear of losing her to the case was paralyzing. She was in a good place - he knew that. She was happy and doing well at work, they were on the right track. Hell, he thought, they had even been talking about their future.

No, he could not tell her what he did. She'd hate him. He knew it. It would crush her.

He was angry with himself for even asking Murray to look at the case in the first place.

He yanked open his desk drawer, dropped the file in and covered it with a few sheets of paper he had been scribbling on. Didn't want to think about it.

And he didn't have time to.

He was meeting Kate for coffee before her shift.

It took everything he had to bury the file in the recesses of his mind as he picked up his coat and left to see her.

* * *

><p>When she woke up in the dark hours of the first February morning it was with a quiet sigh and a stretch, her toes curling into the sheet, knee bumping against Castle's. Everything was quiet. Even the city was quiet. It made her uneasy and did nothing to help her fall back asleep. She hated that, and always had – that she couldn't fall asleep in silence because her mind would wander in circles and keep her awake.<p>

Instead of angrily huffing into her boyfriend's shoulder she rolled out of the bed, adjusted the tie of the waistband on her sweatpants and slipped into the office attached to his bedroom, grabbing her cell phone from the nightstand on the way. With a tap of the home button the screen lit and she noticed the emails waiting. She decided she may as well deal with the few things for the precinct and the random family obligatory messages while she was awake, and began to read and tap out replies curled up in Castle's desk chair.

She reached for a pen to jot down phone numbers from Ryan about their latest case, only to find the black ballpoint scratching at the paper without leaving a trail. She groaned, frustrated that the _writer_ could never seem to keep a sufficient amount of writing implements around. Mindlessly, she pulled open the top desk drawer, rummaged around to find something write with. The file came out amongst other random notepads and even a novel – she didn't even notice it until she went to put everything back after finding a fresh pen and it was the last thing to go in.

_Beckett, James M._

The label was like a slap to the face. She knew exactly what was in the file – every word, every comma, every fucking crease in the pages.

Why was it _here_? She questioned.

With trembling hands she lifted it back out of the drawer, and somehow managed to make it to the couch, practically falling into it, even though her legs felt boneless. Her fingers numbly traced the worn edge of the file, feeling for the paperclips and up-curled edges that she knew too well, her head swimming with questions and…anger.

The loft was still quiet. Alexis was sleeping at a friend's house, Martha performing at a charity function in New Jersey and not expected back for hours– no one around but Castle.

Kate's breath was shaky and thin, and she sank from the edge of the couch down to the floor with the effort of just _breathing_, but she managed to gather enough strength to get her fingers underneath the front cover, and flip open the file she could probably recite from memory.

* * *

><p>Rick Castle startled awake sometime after the sun rose. The bed was empty, the sweats Kate wore to bed last night dropped in a pile beside the bathroom door. Odd, was the thought that struck him, Kate never did that. She hated leaving anything close to being defined as a "mess."<p>

He called out for her but got no response.

Curious, he pulled himself out of the bed and went looking. He found her sitting at the kitchen island with a single cup of coffee and a file.

Shit. The file.

His vision tunneled, his stomach sank like it was full of rocks.

"Hey," he managed to get out.

No answer.

"Um," he slowly began to make his way over to her, "what are you doing?"

Kate cleared her throat, "Trying to figure out why I found this in your desk." When he didn't answer she supplied what she knew he was afraid to ask. "I wasn't just looking, I needed a pen because apparently for a writer you don't use them very often."

"I see."

Finally she looked up from the cup of coffee - no longer steaming, he noticed, so she must have been sitting for a while. She turned her head only, looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, and something akin to betrayal. Disappointment, even. Her voice was a strangled crack, "Rick, why do you have this file?"

"I thought that if I looked at it, maybe-"

"You'd find something?"

It was his turn to be silent.

"Castle, I don't know what to say to you right now."

"Then...why don't we just put it away, forget this happened."

"You think that I can forget that this happened? I can just forget that you went behind my back and pried open the most private and...sensitive pieces of my life? Castle, that is not okay!" Even though her voice was strangled - he hated to think that she had probably been crying - she was fierce. Her words sharp. "Why would you do this."

"I have a friend, his name is Clark Murray-"

"You showed this to someone else?! Castle!" She yelled.

"Clark Murray is one of the state's top medical examiner who has been in this city for years, and knows more about the human body than you or I could ever hope to learn. He is a very respected professional, and like I said, one of the best. I would never, never trust anyone but him, Kate."

"That doesn't change the fact that you did this without my permission."

"Yes. I know," he sighed harshly, "But if anyone was going to get you more information for this, Kate, it would be Dr. Murray. So I talked a uniform into letting me into archives-"

"Who?"

"You know I wouldn't tell you that." She practically growled at him, but he took it as permission to continue, "I didn't tell anyone what I was looking for, okay? I found it on my own, made the copies and put the file back where I found it. Dr. Murray agreed to be discreet and just give me another opinion to compare to the ME of record. I didn't want to tell you because I knew how you would feel and I didn't think anything would come of it anyway," he whispered at the end.

"So," she sniffed, awkwardly trying not to cry when she wanted to be angry with him, "let me get this straight. You took my father's file from the records room at the precinct - let a uniform think you were supposed to be there-"

"Kate, I've been there before."

"With me, Castle! With me! You had no right to go down there, and to do this on your own! None!"

"I wanted to do something for you here! I wanted to help!"

"I didn't ask you to help," she argued. "This is my issue, Castle. My father, not yours."

The affirmation was like a knife to his heart. As if it wasn't already sore enough, pained with what he did and how she was reacting, she had to go there? "Trust me, I am completely aware of that! Look," he sighed, "I don't know what I would want if it were my father - and I will never know, but that's my burden, and this is yours. I know how much this means to you, and how much you want to solve it for your dad. And if I could...If I could help you with that in some way..."

"Castle, what were you going to do if you found something?"

_If_ he found something, he thought. His mother's voice echoed in his ear about telling her the truth.

"Were you just going to run off into the night like some sort of superman and make a citizen's arrest?"

"Kate, I did find something," he managed. But his voice was too quiet to cut through her rage.

"Castle, this was too big for me, and it's too big for you. I don't care if you can afford the best medical examiner on the planet, I didn't want you to do this, and you shouldn't have." Her voice cracked more and more with every word.

"Kate," he reiterated, louder.

She snapped at him. "What?"

"I did find something. Dr. Murray," he corrected, "found something."

He watched as she froze with the news. Her face locking up, jaw open, eyes wide. She shook her head.

"He didn't put it in there."

"I noticed."

"But, if you want to talk to him, he said to tell you he'll make himself available."

"No," she shook her head again, firmer. "No, we're not doing this. This isn't up for discussion, and I can't- I can't be here right now."

"Kate," he pleaded, trying to stop her as she moved from the kitchen to grab her purse and coat from the couch and headed for the door. "Come on, please, can we just talk

about this?"

"No!" She rounded, her voice now thick with the anger and tears she had been holding in since the early morning. "No, Castle. We can't just talk about this!" She heaved. "You did the absolute last thing I would want you to do, and I can't deal with this right now." She heaved a breath, quieter said, "I just can't."

With that, she turned again, stiff and shaky on her feet, and left. The door swung closed behind her, separating Castle from her with a cold, loud thud that echoed through the empty loft.


	26. The Resolve

He hadn't moved from the chair in hours. His stomach had been growling and rolling with hunger but he didn't care – just kept pouring himself a new glass of scotch as he stared at the walls. A sour taste stuck in his mouth that he just couldn't seem to wash away. There was no energy to write – or inspiration – no patience for television, and no music was pleasing.

His office was dark, just the light from outside the windows cutting through the shadows. He just wanted to be alone.

But apparently it wasn't meant to happen.

His mother and daughter came in, ignoring the fact that the door closed, the lights were off, and he hadn't made a sound since Kate left hours before.

"Dad, you can't just stay in here all day."

"Sure I can," he rasped, "why not?"

"Richard," his mother sighed, letting her arms wave and drop with her frustration, "sulking in your cave is not going to solve anything."

He glared at the file out of the corner of his eye, sitting smack in the middle of his desk – taking in her words but not really listening.

"What happened?" His mother asked.

"I told you, Kate found the file, and we fought. She left." He had told them earlier when they both came home, only giving them a skeleton of what had happened, which was more than he had repeated as they stood, both with arms crossed, shooting him concerned looks from the other side of his desk.

"Well," Alexis shook her head, her eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to figure out what he should do, "You have to talk to her, Dad."

"Can't." He gritted out, taking another sip from his glass. He let it thud against the desk with a heavy hand, "She doesn't want to talk to me."

"You tried." Martha supplied.

He nodded. "She won't answer her phone, and I called Lanie. She said Kate doesn't want to talk to me and I should leave her alone for a while. What am I supposed to do?"

"You find a way to fix it," she pushed, "That's what you do." Her finger was wagging in his face, her voice tight and strangely concerned. It made him feel like he was ten years old again and had just pulled a prank on one of her cast-mates. "I know you love that girl, Richard, so you get yourself out of that chair, shower and pull together, then you go. Fix it."

Alexis shifted awkwardly in her spot, her shoulders rolling ever so slightly while his mother spoke. His gaze shifted from the elder to the younger, and really noticed how worried she looked. His mother finished her brief lecture, added something about fighting the good fight and getting it 'right this time' before strutting out in her characteristic dramatic fashion.

"Hey," he gently called to her. She looked down at him nervously.

"What?"

"I don't want you to worry about this Alexis."

"Dad," she sighed, "I like Kate, I do. And…I don't blame her for being mad at you, because I kind of am, too."

"Me three," he dropped in.

"But you need to talk to her. Gram's right, you need to fix it." She shifted again and shook her head, letting her arms fall to her sides. "Even it you don't, you know, _fix it_, you should tell her you're sorry…" she sighed again, her eyes dropping from his to the file on his desk, "just try to, okay?"

He softened, surprised at how concerned Alexis apparently was about his fight with Kate. Carefully he pushed himself up from the chair, ignoring the ache in his shins and lower back from sitting in one position for so long, and rounded the desk to pull her into a hug. "Trust me, I want to."

* * *

><p>He still hadn't figured out how he ended up at the building by the time he got there. Spur of the moment, possible insanity, he supposed. He had no idea what he was walking into, if Kate would be there, if the door would even be opened for him at all - but he climbed the stairs anyway.<p>

His hand was tightly wrapped around the two things in his pocket – Kate's watch and ring. Their fight had been even more crushing when he found them left behind on his dresser. She never went anywhere without them, and for her to have gotten dressed and out of his apartment without them meant her mind really was wracked. The second he noticed that they were there he slipped them into his pocket and hadn't let go since.

When he reached the door, the words he thought he wanted to say were a jumble in his head. He had no idea what to start with, or how, and his knees were shaky, but he gathered all the internal strength he could and knocked.

There was no answer for several moments, minutes probably - he couldn't tell, but also couldn't bring himself to move. He could hear movement behind the door and the breath caught in his throat. The tumbling of the lock had him fearing for his life.

Johanna Beckett's face appeared in the crack in the door – disappointed and concerned, and definitely a bit angry.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up, Rick."

"I – um, I didn't know if-"

She cut him off. "Why don't you come inside?"

"Sure," he cracked. Still in a daze, he followed her into the apartment, quickly noticing that she was the only one there and the only other noise was the television playing some soap opera softly in the living room. "I'm not entirely sure why I came here. I'm sorry."

Johanna flipped and perched on the armrest of her sofa, staring Rick down where he stood at the archway to the kitchen. "For?" She folded her arms across her chest, looking every bit like the legal professional she was.

Terribly intimidating.

"Everything," he shrugged. "I'm sure Kate's told you that I screwed up."

She nodded. "She has."

"I didn't..." he started, stopped to gather his thoughts, "I didn't do anything that I did with the intent to hurt her, or you, and I really hope you know that."

Her eyes traveled up and down his form as if she were running her own version of a lie detector test.

"I really, honestly thought, that if I just made sure, checked it all for the thousandth time, thatthings could be better for her. I know how much your husband's case weighs on her, and I wanted to try to help. Really, I was hoping that nothing would come of it and it would just be one more person - someone I trusted - saying that it was just a horrible freak accident."

He noticed her gulp, "But Katie said that you found something? Your ME friend?"

The writer sighed, his shoulders fell, "Yeah, he did."

Instantly her eyes welled up, she had to look up and blink away the tears before they fell. "All these years later I never expected anything to happen. After...afterwards, once Katie and I had picked ourselves up it looked like it was just something we were going to live with, you know? It felt like we had moved on as much as we ever would. Or could."

He didn't know what he was supposed to say. He couldn't tell her what Murray found - not when Kate was furious with him for ever finding out - and if she didn't want to do anything with it, what was the point of further worrying her mother? Slowly, he moved to sit in one of the armchairs facing Johanna, bend over with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.

"Oh," he remembered his cargo, and shifted to reach into his pocket. "These are hers. She um, left them at my place." He held them out to her expecting her to take them.

She leaned over and carefully plucked the items from his open palm, letting each slip into one of her hands. Her thumb ran gently over the worn leather band on the watch, the ring held tightly between her fingers. "Has Katie told you why she has these?"

Smiling ever so thinly, he shook his head 'no.' "Only vaguely."

Johanna smiled. An honest to goodness grin as she turned the watch over and over with her fingeres. "I gave Jim this watch for our fifth anniversary Katie and I did, actually - she picked it out. He wore it everyday, and anytime Katie was near him she would play with it. Spinning around his hand or playing with the clasp. Things like that. I don't know how to explain it but, it always made her so proud to see him wear it, and he never wanted to disappoint her. When we were preparing for his funeral it came up. She thought it was only right that Jim be buried with it - because he wouldn't be _him _without it - and I had to convince her that he would want her to have it."

"Now she wears it every day..."

"Exactly," she sniffled, but still smiled at the memories he was sure were running through her head. "The ring," she sighed, "that's a whole other story."

"You don't have to tell me." He nearly mumbled, surprised she was giving him so much.

"It's part of why Katie's so upset."

"Really, I don't think-"

"Rick, I'm not upset with you. I can't blame you for wanting to help us."

"No, you can."

"But I'm not going to, because Katie's been fighting this with everything she's got and you deserve to know why." With a heavy breath she started again, "I did pretty...decent, after Jim died. Things weren't great, and it was hard to go to work in the mornings knowing that I didn't have him to discuss cases with after anymore, but we got through. Katie made the decision to go the Academy, be a detective. She didn't have to tell me it was because she wanted to solve her dad's murder. Everyone knew."

"I take it you weren't too thrilled."

She laughed, thinly, "No. I wasn't, but you're support your children, so I did. But...the first time she got hurt she had only been on the job for a few months, working this god awful nightside shift. It was just a sprain, nothing anywhere near a serious injury, but it got me. I had nightmares for a couple of weeks - _terrible _ones - and I started taking Ambien. But that wasn't helping so one night I had a glass of wine that turned into a few, and the next morning Katie found me passed out. She made me tell her what was going on after the ER released me." She swiped away a few tears from her cheeks, "The dreams I had been having - it wasn't just Jim in the alley sometimes, it was Katie too. Or me." She heaved, "There were _so many _nights that I wished it had been me. She yelled at me, 'how dare' I even think that - and it was then that I decided to move from our old place, and I gave her the ring because I couldn't keep looking at it everyday and think of my dead husband."

"Johanna," he whispered, "I don't know what to say."

"Your books helped Katie a lot. I doubt she's mentioned that - she's too proud."

He smiled at her, tried to lighten the thick blanked of tension in the room. "No, she's never said anything about that."

"She read everything you had out at the time after Jim's death. Just...thought you might like to know that."

He frowned, looked down at the floor unable to meet Johanna's eyes. "I don't know how to make this up to her."

Johanna gently rested the watch and the ring on the coffee table, and leaned over, waiting for him to look up. "You don't have to. Just...apologize."

"You know that's the same thing Alexis told me?"

"Alexis is pretty smart. You should listen to her."

"She won't answer my calls."

"Yeah, she does that when she's mad. Give her a bit of time, alright? Not too much but..." she paused, redirected herself, "You'll figure it out, Rick. I know you two will."

* * *

><p>He looked everywhere. Another call to Lanie got him nowhere other than a quiet sort-of apology for the way things looked, but there was no way he was accepting it. He wasn't going to lie down and let this be the end of he and Kate. He tried her apartment, her favorite coffee shop, the bookstore she frequented, the diner she liked to go to after a long shift, and finally decided to try the cemetery.<p>

Sure enough, just as the sun was setting he found her sitting in the grass before her dad's headstone. The attendant had been reluctant to tell him where Jim Beckett's grave was, but took pity on him after a brief, detail-less explanation and gave him directions to the spot.

Her head was down when he began to make his way up the little hill. He knew that she knew he was there, her finger twitched against her kneecap, but she didn't say anything. Just let him come up and sit himself down beside her.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I didn't think, and I hurt you, and I betrayed your trust."

She just sat there, not giving him any sign that she was really listening to him - but when he heard her breath hitch - he knew.

"I never wanted to do that to you, Kate. I'm so sorry," he added again. "I know you wouldn't want me to but I went to see your mom."

Her head snapped, eyes wide open with fear of what he had said.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell her what - what he found. We just talked. She's pretty great."

"Yeah," her voice was just one step above silent. If there had been any other noise around them he wouldn't have heard her at all. "She is."

"She told me about why you wear these." He held out her watch and ring to her, "I wish I would have asked you myself, but...I'm glad she told me." Wordless, Kate took the jewelry from him and re-fastened them where they belonged. "I'm not blaming you, at all but - I wish you would have told me. All of it. I could have handled it."

"It wasn't a matter of handling it, Rick," she ducked her head down and picked at a blade of grass, "I know you could. But I didn't know how to tell you about how screwed up my life was. I was a wreck after he died. I could barely keep my head above water, and I chased every lead I could think of. It took my mom-" her voice choked.

"Until you found out about the nightmares?"

"Yeah," she managed to shake out. "It took _that_ happening before I made myself stop. I didn't want you to know how much of a mess I was. It took me a long time to be _okay_ with not knowing, and I didn't want to be _that_ person anymore."

"Kate," he grabbed her hand despite the distance she had kept between them, "I could never love you any less for sharing that part of yourself with me. I want to know these things, so I can be there for you, and be who you need me to be - so I don't do something like what I just did and scare the hell out of both of us. Please," he waited for her to look back at him, "I want to make this right."

"I don't want to know what he found, Rick. I can't take it."

"Okay," he nodded, 'I'll tell him that we're not going anywhere with it."

"I'm not saying _never_. Maybe one day I'll be ready, but it's just not now."

"Whatever you want, Kate. I'll do anything you want me to do. I'm sorry," he whispered one more time into her hair after pulling her practically into his lap, right there in the middle of the cemetery - in front of her father.

"Thank you," she answered.

"So?" He sighed, letting her turn to rest back against his side, "This is your dad?"

"This is my dad." She nodded.

"Introduce me?"

She turned her head, her nose nudging gently against his cheek before she left a soft kiss there. "Sure."


	27. The Moment

After a few rocky weeks, uncomfortable silences and tender conversations about family and relationships past, Castle and Beckett were back to normal. Or really, a new normal where they were trying to be far more honest and forthcoming with each other. As Kate sat at her desk, flipping through their most recent case file to make sure all the information and records were filled out properly, she thought about how they had left things that morning.

She had dressed for work at his place, said she's be at her apartment that night to re-pack the bag she had been hauling to and from his place for days at a time since their fight, and kissed him goodbye. He didn't really answer, which was odd, she thought. Just let her go and said he'd catch her later.

Hmm, her eyebrows scrunched as the moment struck her again. But she didn't have time to worry about the state of their relationship – there were cases she had to review and send down to archives, especially if she wanted to get to her place in time for dinner with her mother and back to his for the night.

She was on a roll, only had a few forms left to proof, when the coffee cup came down in front of her face.

"Hey," she spun her chair around to find him standing there with his own coffee, "I thought you were working today?"

He shrugged a shoulder, "Thought we both deserved a break. Brought you your usual."

"Thanks," she smiled.

"I really shouldn't stay long," – she had assumed so since he never sat – "I'm close to hitting three chapters, which is kind of a record for me."

"Mhmm," her eyes fell down to the warm cup of coffee in her hands, "Would hate to be the reason why Gina kills you."

"Funny," he smirked at her. "I'll leave you with your coffee then?"

"Yeah."

"And I'll see you later?" He rocked back on his heels waiting for her answer.

"Probably. If dinner goes unusually late I may just crash at my apartment."

"Well, your mother is a talker." Made her laugh, then reached over with one hand on the arm of her chair, kissed her. "Let me know?"

"Of course," she arched her back to kiss him once more, if anything to make sure he knew she wasn't really mad at him anymore – sometimes she still doubted that he knew that.

She watched from her desk as he turned and left, her eyes not leaving his figure until the moment he stepped into the elevator. When she turned back to the file awaiting her attention Ryan and Esposito were standing on the opposite side of her desk.

"Hi?"

They nodded their 'hello's. "Castle not staying?"

"No," she answered Ryan's question while setting her coffee back down and shuffling papers around on the desk. "Just stopped by with coffee and now he's going back to writing." She huffed and her shoulders fell, looked up at the two of them with a confused look on her face. "It's weird, right?"

Esposito shrugged, "Maybe he's just trying to do something nice for you, Beckett. Why's that weird?"

"Because, it's…I don't know." She slumped back into her chair feeling more or less defeated. "You don't think he still thinks I'm upset with him, do you? We've talked about it…a lot, and I thought we were past that. Things have been good..."

"Beckett just relax," Ryan started, "I'm sure things are fine and you have no reason to worry."

"I can't help it." It was not a conversation she wanted to have at all, let alone with the two of them, but she wasn't blind to the fact that they knew her just as well as Castle, or Lanie, or anyone else. "You guys really think he's okay? He hasn't said anything?"

They turned to look at each other, then back to her, shaking their heads. "Nope. Everything's been cool," Esposito gave her one of those looks – one of the 'you're making yourself crazy' looks, "Just trust him, Beckett."

"Yeah, you two are great," Ryan agreed, trying to reassure her.

"Okay," she acquiesced, "alright. Now, can you two go back to whatever it is you're supposed to be doing so I can finish what _I'm_ supposed to be doing?"

With the tip of their heads the two turned and disappeared back to wherever they had come from, leaving her with her work and coffee that was going cold entirely too quickly, thoughts and confusion about Richard Castle still swimming in her head.

* * *

><p>Kate and Johanna Beckett sat across from each other at Kate's dining table enjoying pizza and salad from their favorite Italian diner. They had gone through their usual work discussion and had promptly moved onto the 'Castle' subject, which had Kate's stomach flipping.<p>

She fiddled with the stem of her wine glass with her fingertips, "He's just been acting really strangely. I thought things were better between us – yeah, it took a little while but…I'm not mad at him anymore, and we don't even talk about _that_. But it feels like he's distancing himself."

"Sweetheart," Johanna leaned back in her chair, cradling the arm holding her own glass of wine to her chest, "Are you sure you're not overreacting?"

"I don't know," she sighed, "that's what's driving me crazy – I can't figure out if everything's fine and I'm making it all up in my head or if he really is…over us." The last words came out as an uneasy whisper.

"Well, you said he's working on the new book, right? Maybe he's just trying to juggle that and you and Alexis, and the rest of his life. He had most of Heat Wave done before you really got this close, didn't he?"

"I guess so," she shrugged. The time before the two of them had become _them_ had seemed so far away she couldn't really grasp a memory of how he had acted when he was in the middle of writing. "The boys said I need to relax."

"Makes sense to me."

Kate looked up at her mother, scowled just a bit. "You're supposed to be supportive, you know."

"I am!" She defended, "I really don't think you should worry yet. He's not telling you not to come over, is he?"

"No."

"And he's not making up excuses for not being around?"

"As far as I know. If he weren't making progress on the book his publisher would be calling, and that hasn't happened." She sighed, "And he likes to play with his toys when he's procrastinating and I haven't seen the helicopter in a few weeks."

"Helicopter?"

"Mhmm. Remote control. I told you he can act like a child."

Her mother cocked her head, totally serious, "Well is that really a bad thing? We could all use some childish time. Just think, he could be a boring suit with no personality."

She laughed despite the nagging in the back of her mind, "He _definitely_ has personality."

"Kate, it's just one rough patch. Do you know how many your father and I had in all the years we were together? A lot. It's not going to be perfect all the time, and that's okay," she stressed. "That's how you know you belong together – if you still come back to each other." She leaned over the table, made sure she was looking right into her daughter's eyes, "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about yet."

Before she could respond, there was a light knock on the door, and Kate stood to answer it. Her usual routine, she looked through the peephole first, but was caught off guard by the skinny kid holding a flower delivery. She didn't have to wonder who they came from.

His cheery, "Delivery for Kate Beckett," greeted her when she opened the door.

"That's me?" With a smile he handed her the bouquet of lilies. "Thanks," she managed as the kid backed away and headed down the hall. She pushed the door shut, locked it again, and still staring at the blooms brought them to the table, gently plucking the card from the plastic clip.

_Dessert is on me. See you at my place after dinner, whatever time. _

"What is it, Sweetheart?"

"From Rick. He wants me to come over after dinner." She hadn't noticed the smile spread across her face as she read the message and took in the sight of the flowers. Finally she looked over to her mother, now sitting with her elbow perched on the table, head leaning casually on her hand as she gave her a knowing, yet loving, smirk.

"Fine," Kate sighed, with just a hint of a laugh, "Just say it and get it over with."

"I told you so." She practically sang.

* * *

><p>After her mother excused herself – after nearly pushing Kate out the door – she changed out of the work clothes she was still in, and into a more casual blouse with her favorite black leather jacket. She tossed her hair into a braid over her shoulder quickly before grabbing her bag and getting out the door to get to the loft.<p>

She was stopped when she reached the doors to the building. His doorman snagged her attention.

"Ms. Beckett, Mr. Castle asked me to tell you to go to the roof."

What? She thought.

"Really?"

"Yes, he made it very clear. No one is in the apartment right now, he would like to meet you on the roof."

She shrugged, puzzled at the request, but stepped into the elevator, hit the proper button and leaned back with her hands fisted in her jacket pockets as the car moved up. A couple of stops for other residents later, the doors opened up and the sight astounded her.

Ignoring the sudden stiffness in her legs, she stepped out of the car and moved towards her writer where he was leaning against the bar that the building had set up for events.

The bar, the pots of flowers, and the wooden trellises were all lined with white lights, casting a golden glow over everything. "Castle?" she looked around, not believing what she was seeing.

"Hey," he greeted her with a kiss, "I'm glad you came."

"Of course. The flowers were…thank you." He reached up to swipe a small section of her hair out of her face, but she ducked her head.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just-" she stifled a laugh, rolled her eyes at her own fear, "I thought, that you thought I was still mad at you."

"No," he whispered into her ear and placed a tender kiss right above it, "Why would you think that?"

"Things seemed different…distant, between us. I may have been overreacting a bit."

"No, no. I don't blame you. I didn't mean to make you think like that at all, I was just – working on some things."

She hummed, wrapped her arms around him, "How is Nikki Heat?"

"Good, kicking Rook's ass for getting beaten up trying to help her catch a suspect."

"Sounds like something she would do." She let him just hold her as they listened to the city around them. 'So," she started, "I was promised dessert?"

"In a few minutes. I have something to ask you first."

Never had she expected those words to hit her so hard, or send her stomach leaping into her throat. With everything they had been through in the past two months, there were so many ways she could interpret the statement – and trying to imagine which way justified the big romantic gesture nearly sent her reeling.

"Sure," she whispered. 'What is it?"

"Did you know it's been about a year since you brought me in for questioning on that case?"

"No," she thought, "Really?"

"Yeah," he chirped. "And well, I know that recently, things have been rough, and it's all been a lot to deal with," she nodded, "Those hard cases, and the anniversary, and then," he took a deep breath, "what I did. But, at the end of the day I know that the only person I want to do all those things with, the only person that I want to fight and go undercover with – and _make up_ with, is you."

"Rick, I-"

He stopped her, "There have only been a handful of nights that we haven't spent together, either at my place or yours, and do you know, thinking that you were maybe going to just stay in your apartment tonight, _alone_, was unsettling. So, I wanted to ask you, if you would consider moving into the loft."

"With you and Alexis."

"Yeah," he whispered, nervous. "We want you here, all the time."

As Kate looked up at him, really noticed the look in his eyes, she realized, she felt the same way. Every other relationship she had ever had ended after about six or seven months, she would have kicked any other guy to the curb for looking into her dad's case like Castle had, and never in her life had she thought she would be okay living with someone else's teenager.

But with Castle…and Alexis, and even his mother…she didn't have to think any harder.

"Of course," she boosted herself up on her toes – what she got for not wearing heels – and captured his lips in a searing kiss, "I would love to move in with you."

He leaned in again to give her a celebratory kiss, but broke it quickly, looking like he was internally hitting himself for forgetting something stupid.

"Oh, there's one more thing."

"What," she laughed, until all of the air left her lungs when he got down on one knee, reaching inside his jeans pocket.

"Marry me?" He was holding up a ring.

She nearly lurched forward with the effort of breathing, "What?"

"Will you, Katherine Houghton Beckett, marry me? Move in and never leave. We'll fight crime and write best selling novels and come home and be _us_."

"Yes," she whispered, and shaking, reached down to pull him up to his feet.

"Yes?"

"Yes!" She practically screamed as she laughed, the tears slipping down her cheeks and falling without her caring.

He was laughing, probably crying but she couldn't tell, as he stepped forward, backing her up so that she could sit down at the table he had set up. She let him take her hand, and as she slipped the ring on she managed to find her voice again.

"Is this why you've been so distracted?" Her voice was a bubbly mixture of laughter and genuine, serious wonder.

"Yeah, among other things, yes. I've been trying to figure out how to ask you for a couple of weeks."

"You mean you've been practically walking around with this," she glanced down at the ring – holy shit, she gasped to herself – "and I had no idea?"

"Just did a good job of keeping the secret, I guess."

"You did." She whispered, draped her arms over his shoulders where he was crouching down in front of her, "I love it. It's…" she sighed, smiled, "exactly what I wanted."

"Good," he whispered back, "Me too."

The two stood again, against aching knees and awkward angles, and wrapped themselves in each other in the middle of the rooftop.

"You know, when we first met, I never thought this is where we would end up. But…you proved me wrong, Rick. And…I'm so happy that you did."

He barely let her finish her thought before drawing her to him, just as thrilled at how far they came as she was. It had been a long road and they were far from finding the end, but both knew that they had found the right partner to travel the journey with. Their lips met, and the rest of the world melted away.

* * *

><p><em>One chapter left, people! I can't believe it!<em>


	28. The Happy Ending

Things had been electric in her life since the day in March that Kate called her, crying but happy, and told her that Richard Castle had proposed. After the lovebirds spent a weekend alone, she dove right into planning the big event with her daughter.

Katie had never been the girl to bury her nose in wedding magazines or fantasize over what she wanted for her own special day, but when they sat down in the living room of the loft with Martha and Alexis, having sent the groom-to-be out to one of his writer's poker games, she seemed to know exactly what the day should look like.

_The four women had gathered in the living room of the Castle loft – Alexis and Kate claiming their spots on the floor while Johanna and Martha settled into the couch. They started with a notebook and Alexis's laptop, just 'brainstorming' Kate called it._

_As they talked their way through a list of settings, it became very clear that Kate wasn't keen on a huge affair with hundreds of guests and press. "Rick and I talked about it, and he thinks it's a good idea. It's our day," she motioned to all of them, "_our_ day, and we talked about it with Paula. We're going to have one photographer – she's going to come up with a contract for privacy – and we're going to pick three photos to release to the media. Any profit made from those has to go to the NYPD Widows and Children's Fund."_

"_Darling, that's a lovely idea." Martha flourished, "And very honorable."_

_They talked venues but couldn't find anything that they all felt was _them_, until Alexis suggested the Hamptons house. _

"_We're looking for private, right? What's more private than our own house. There are certainly enough rooms for all five of us," their immediate family, "and enough for even some of the bridal party. And there's a hotel nearby."_

"_Yeah," Kate nodded, "that sounds…" she paused to smile, picture it in her own head, "It's perfect."_

_They drew up the guest list, somewhere right around one hundred guests after adding the necessary co-workers and friends to the short list of extended family they had between the two of them, and made a draft of meal ideas to discuss with Castle's go-to caterer. The man had a 'guy' for everything._

"_I think it's right," Kate skimmed her eyes over the lists they had created._

"_Right is one thing, Katie," Johanna had posed to her, "but is it what you want?"_

_Kate stopped, pictured herself and Castle in her head, dressed and standing in front of everyone who mattered to them, hands joined. Out over the water the sun was just near to setting, and everything looked…exactly how she wanted it. "Yeah," she smiled at her mother, and soon to be mother-in-law and stepdaughter, "It is."_

Johanna been there every instant Kate needed her. Sat in her pajamas at one in the morning when Kate would call, nervous that she chose the right meal or picked the right kind of flowers to have the Hamptons in early August. And inevitably, each time she just had to let Kate talk herself into realizing that she was being "that bride," and things were fine.

Every moment was special, and she loved sharing the experience of preparing for a wedding with her daughter. But things came to a head at the end of May, when the reality of getting married hit Kate.

_Kate decided that she didn't want anyone else with her when she went looking for wedding dresses but her mother. They set aside a Saturday and came up with a game plan of shops to go to and a few styles that were definitely on the 'to try' list. They went into store after store and Kate tried on a few dresses in each one but didn't find anything she was in love with. _

_They settled on a bench with two iced coffees on a break. The pressure was starting to get to the younger Beckett. "Katie, we'll find the dress. I promise. We'll go through a few more stores, and if you don't find anything you like, we'll stop, and do it again another day." She waited for Kate to nod, "There's no sense in running yourself into the ground and getting frustrated over this."_

_Johanna had known something was wrong when Kate didn't put up a fight – at all. Not even a little nudge back. _

_Four dresses later, Kate came out of the dressing room in a strapless gown. Barely a shade off-white, the light chiffon layers drifted elegantly behind her, small rhinestones and beading decorated the upper edge of the bust and an appliqué on the waist where the bodice of the gown met the skirt. _

"_Katie," Johanna beamed._

"_Yeah," she was in just as much awe. _

_Johanna stood and helped her daughter up in front of the semi-circle of mirrors then carefully arranged the skirt around her. "What do you think?"_

"_I think," Kate's voice shook, "This may be it."_

_She had to wipe away the one tear that managed to escape. "You look like a bride." _

"_Uh huh," the syllables were slow to fall from her daughter's lips, and the look in Kate's eyes was far too distant to be there while shopping for a wedding dress. _

"_Sweetheart, what's wrong?"_

"_Nothing's wrong," she argued, trying to smile even though she was beginning to cry, "I can picture Dad walking me down the aisle…in this dress."_

_Barely a second passed before she was closing the space between them, putting herself up on the step beside her daughter, grabbing her hands. "Oh, Katie," she sighed, didn't care that she too, was now crying, "He would have _loved _to see you in this dress. And he would have adored Rick and been thrilled to see you get married."_

"_We talked about it a lot, Rick and I. After we fought in February I kind of introduced them and told him all of these stories from when I was a kid."_

_Johanna looked at her, questioning. _

"_We sat in front of Dad's headstone and talked things through, and we talked to him. It was surreal." She shook her head, stuck in the memory. "I've never done that with anyone before." Kate turned, dropping one hand from her mother's and looked at the two of them in the mirror. "Since Dad can't – will you walk me down the aisle?"_

_Johanna's arm came around Kate's waist, hugging tightly. "Of course I will. You don't even need to ask."_

Before she knew it, she was standing in the master suite, upstairs in the Castles' house in the Hamptons, watching as her daughter stepped into that dress they picked out just two months before.

"Want me to zip you up?" She asked from her place at the vanity.

"Sure."

They were in the middle of triple checking each other's makeup when there was a knock at the door and two faces popped through.

"Girl," Lanie squealed, "you look amazing!"

"Thanks," she ducked her head, blushing, "it was all her," she thumbed in her mother's direction.

"Dad just went outside," Alexis grinned at her. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, "I am."

ooooo

The ceremony was beautiful. She had walked her little girl down the aisle and stood by as she and Richard Castle shared their vows, tears unabashedly slipping down her cheeks at the moment they said 'I do.'

The party planner had pulled everything off for the reception wonderfully – found a company to set up a beach-side dance floor and seating area, and the food was perfect. She was seated at one of them, watching Kate and Rick dancing and laughing at each other, when Martha came up and took the seat beside her.

The two women leaned in to chat and be heard over the music, their bare feet tucked carefully underneath their chairs. The crowd had thinned, some of their guests having left shortly after dinner had been served, but most people were wandering around on the beach or dancing, enjoying the beautiful night. Somehow, the couple's mothers didn't get the chance to find each other before the wedding had begun hours earlier.

"Everything was gorgeous, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was." She thought for a moment, once again coming to the topic that had been on her mind all day since having breakfast with the family before they parted ways to get ready for the wedding. "Way back when I ran into you in that cupcake shop – did you think anything would ever _really_ come of setting the two of them up?"

"I don't know," Martha contemplated, "But when you think about it…we didn't really set them up, did we?"

Johanna pursed her lips, hummed, thinking about the murder that _really_ brought their children together, "I guess not. Though I like to think they had our good intentions in mind at some point."

"I would hope so," they shared a laugh, and turned back to the dance floor, this time to find Rick swinging Kate around in some ridiculous attempt to keep in-time with the swing tune the DJ had blaring over the speakers. "They're happy."

She nodded at Martha's observation in total agreement, "I have to say, however Lifetime-movie-esque it may seem-"

"Johanna, I've been in my fair share of schmaltzy plays, nothing you can say can compare."

"Nonetheless," she laughed, "You should know, Rick is everything I could want for Katie."

"And Katherine is exactly who I always hoped Richard would find. They're perfect for each other."

"They really are," their eyes were still on their children. There was a heavy feeling in Johanna's heart she watched her daughter dance with her new husband, wishing that her own could be there to see it, too. But she knew he was with them…somehow, she just knew. The two Beckett women had been through hell, but the sight before her proved her husband's old saying. She could almost hear him whispering _'We Becketts can do anything.'_ in her ear.

She smiled – beamed, really – proud of how far they had come. She thought of everything she had yet to witness in her daughter's life, the milestones still too far out to touch, and realized, knowing how short life could be, she was more thankful than she thought.

"I'm glad it didn't take them years to see it." 

* * *

><p><em>Finally we have reached the end! I cannot believe it! It's been far too long since I originally started it that I was able to finish - but I am so thankful for those of you who stuck with me through the most epic of writer's blocks. For the readers I can always count on to leave a review, thank you so much, and everyone who was still reading and favoriting and alerting - I appreciate it.<em>

_This story started when I had a random thought of 'what would happen if it was her dad instead?' and I just ran with it. Unfortunately I greatly neglected the poor thing for months and months, but I finally sat down and set myself to finish it this summer. I'm actually pretty proud of how it all turned out, and I hope you all enjoyed it. _

_I don't see myself committing to longer stories, will probably stick to one and two-shots. If people really want it and send me prompts, I'll probably dabble in this universe._

_Thanks for joining me with this story! _

**_Tappin  
>:D<em>**


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